Solace
by Kris Harold
Summary: Edward learns the dangers of walking around during a thunderstorm with his brother-and of the unexpected consequences.
1. Chapter 1: Unconditional

**[Author's Note] **I would really appreciate feedback on this. I've been working really hard on it, and I'm feeling pretty uneasy about it. It's not really as well-planned as most of my stories... Enjoy chapter 1! **[/AN]**

**Chapter 1: Unconditional**

Alphonse watched his older brother stare out the train window. Edward had scarcely spoken during the ride from the boys' home in Risembool to the destination in Central. His clothes were dry, but the relentless thunderstorm outside drenched Edward before the departure. His silence began to worry Alphonse. If Edward felt ill, he would refuse to alert Alphonse to his condition until he required hospital intervention.

Alphonse disliked his brother's stubbornness against doctors and needles, so he frequently felt like a babysitter. He did not mind the arrangement, however, because Alphonse knew Edward was working hard to restore their bodies. Alphonse pretended not to notice how much his brother hid from him so he could continue the role of the unshakable older brother. Nonetheless, Alphonse worried when he suspected Edward felt ill.

Edward gazed out the window as rain pattered against the glass. Alphonse did not know if his brother was observing the passing scenery, the rain, or the workings of his own thoughts. Left elbow propped on the windowsill, Edward rested his jaw pensively on his raised fist. Other than the occasional blink of an eye, Edward appeared asleep due to his lack of motion. His face betrayed no emotion, neither happiness nor depression.

A flash of lightning alerted Edward to close his eyes against the blinding light. Alphonse seized the opportunity. "Brother?"

The golden eyes turned to peer through his fallen blond bangs at the metal suit hosting his younger brother's soul, and Edward raised his eyebrows inquiringly. "Hm?" He blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the change in position, focus, and lighting. "What is it, Al?"

"Are you feeling okay?" When Edward diverted his eyes, ashamed for worrying his brother, Alphonse pressed, "It's just that... you've been really quiet since we left Granny's..."

Edward knew Alphonse would drag him to a doctor if he denied illness, so he inhaled deeply and sighed, "Sorry." Edward lowered his arm from the window reluctantly. "It's just... I visited Mom's grave before we left, and I got to thinking about some stuff," he explained.

"Like what?"

Tilting his head to the right to stretch his stiff neck muscles, Edward avoided eye contact with his brother. He rubbed his neck with his left, non-metal hand soothingly. "Just stupid stuff, I guess... Like different ways that night could've turned out, ya'know?" His head rolled back, and he stared at the ceiling while his neck muscles' tension eased. He felt Alphonse's wordless curiosity and concern begging him to continue. "I just can't stop thinking about... what I would've done if I couldn't bring you back..." He closed his eyes. "... if you had died..."

Alphonse's hands began to fidget unconsciously in his lap. "Oh," he muttered. His head tilted down to watch his restless hands, fascinated by their insubordination. When Edward straightened his head, Alphonse pulled his gaze from his lap to meet his brother's. "What... I mean... Did you come up with anything?"

Lifting his hands to scrub his tired face, Edward rasped, "Yeah..." His hands halted, and he exhaled through his nose. "I-"

"You would've been fine," Alphonse piped up at the sight of his brother's disquiet. "You would've gotten over it... Moved forward..."

Edward slowly lifted his disturbed face to meet his brother's eyes. "Al..." he breathed.

"I mean," Alphonse elaborated, "you're not the kind of person who dwells on things." Memories flashed through his mind of the countless nights Alphonse helplessly watched his older brother toss, turn, and whimper in his sleep from the nightmares caused by the terror and guilt. the disturbing memories Edward silently carried since the night the boys failed to resurrect their mother haunted the young prodigy, and Alphonse never revealed to Edward that his younger brother witness his concealed torment on an almost-nightly basis. "You're strong, Brother," Alphonse encouraged softly.

Opening his mouth as if to speak, Edward paused. He closed his mouth in the shape of a relieved smile. "Thanks, Al."

The gravitational pull of the train shifted, notifying the boys of the arrival to the capital. While the Elrics waited for the train to arrive at a complete stop, the brothers sat in comfortable silence. Other train passengers dug umbrellas from their luggage, but Edward did not follow suit. Since the boys traveled often, Edward did not buy items he deemed unnecessary. All of his possessions fit inside his solitary suitcase. He reasoned his durable red cloak served enough shelter from the rain, so owning an umbrella would add unnecessary weight for him to carry.

Nonetheless the relentless rain soon soaked through Edward's clothing upon exiting the train with his metal brother close behind. Few people filled the station to avoid the thunderstorm. the boys strode through the station undisturbed. Once in the open, Edward inhaled deeply and glanced around the empty, cloud-darkened edge of the city.

"I'm kinda hungry," announced Edward. "What do you say we grab a bite to eat before-?"

"Help!" a young boy's voice cried. Distance quieted the sound, but the Elrics heard the desperate panic in the plea. Both heads found the source of the cries upon a second shriek, "Somebody, please! Help!"

A grassy hill overlooking the incoming trains, a lonely structure among the cleared land for the city's construction, stood approximately 50 yards to the left of the station's entrance. A frightened young boy crouched near the top of the hill, a large patch of mud beneath him. Upon noticing the child's frantic mud-covered hands digging into the earth as he released another cry for help, Edward and Alphonse sprinted for the hill.

Edward dropped his luggage as he neared the scene, freeing himself from the extra weight and emptying his hands. "What happened?" he called over the loud rainfall and a crash of thunder as he approached.

The boy did not falter from his task. Estimated to be roughly 11 years old, the determined boy continued to claw at the earth. The rain dragged his hair into his eyes, darkened to black from the water, but he did not pause to clear his sight. "It's my little sister," he sobbed. "We were making a fort in the ground, and the mud-"

"Get back!" Edward barked. "What's her name?"

Hesitant to cease digging, Alphonse gently gripped the distress child's bicep to pull him away. The horrified boy replied, "Anna."

Edward pressed his hands to the earth and leaned close to yell, "Anna? Anna, get back, and then _don't move_!" He pulled his hands from the mud and clapped his palms together sharply. Closing his eyes to focus the magic-like science at his disposal, he carefully pressed his hands to the ground.

Celestial blue light crackled and popped like tiny bolts of lightning beneath Edward's fingers. The mud hardened and shifted to either side of the shallow claw marks left by Anna's brother's efforts to save her, the solidified mud parting like a set of crude sliding doors. The moment the alchemic reaction died away, Edward crawled into the unlit space.

A small girl, Edward assumed perhaps four or five years old, lied in the back of the dark burrow. Her arms covered her head and face protectively, only glimpses of her dark hair visible. She kept her body and legs curled in on herself in the fetal position like an armadillo. She did not move.

"Anna?" Edward called as he crouched over her. "Anna, can you hear me? Anna!"

Worried her position-combined with the lack of oxygen flow during the cave-in-had suffocated her before his arrival, Edward pried her arms from her head to straighten her torso to allow her lungs to expand more freely. Her face revealed, he saw wide eyes staring at him, tears glistening in the darkness. When the eyes did not blink or move, Edward feared the worst.

"Are you o-?"

She drew a quivering inhale and released a shrieking cry. In spite of himself and his general dislike of the harsh sound, Edward smiled in relief: crying meant life. Although too petrified to move, Anna was alive. Edward chose ear-splitting cries of children over dead children any day.

"You're safe now," Edward assured softly. He scooped his arms under her small frame. "Let's get out of here, huh?"

She wrapped her arms painfully tight around his neck and clung her legs around his torso. Anna buried her face into Edward's shoulder, deafening him with her high-pitched sobs. He secured her in place by wrapping his human arm around her torso, and he crawled out the hole with his automail arm to guide him.

Reaching the upward incline to the exit, Edward began to experience balance difficulty from carrying the girl in the limited, slippery space. Once he gained a solid grip at the opening, Edward propelled himself and the girl out the hole. She did not release him, and she continued to sob hysterically into his rain-soaked red coat.

"Anna!" her brother cried as he rushed to her side. "Are you hurt?" His eyes darted between Edward's calm expression and his wailing sister.

"I think she's fine; she's just scared," Edward assured. "Get her home and out of the rain. Get her cleaned off, and you should probably get her to a doctor to be sure."

When Edward noticed the girl had yet to respond to her brother's presence, Edward hushed the child softly, "You're all right now, Anna. Go to your big brother." He gently peeled her from his torso and guided her toward her anxiously-waiting brother.

Anna quieted to frightened whimpers once she reached the safety of her brother's grasp. Edward smiled, stood, and advised, "Don't be digging any more holes, got it?"

The boy nodded rigorously in reply, and he watched intensely as the mysterious stranger's armor-suited companion retrieved the abandoned suitcase. Hypnotized by the strange pair, the boy could not pull away his gaze. He hauled himself-and the burden in his arms-to his feet and asked, "Wh-Who are you guys?"

Alphonse swooped down and swept up his brother's luggage. "I'm Alphonse Elric," he chirped.

After alchemically sealing the hole, Edward climbed to his feet and finished, "And I'm his older brother Edward Elric: the FullMetal Alchemist."

Gaping in awe at the discovery of receiving aid from the famous alchemy prodigy of the State, the boy froze until his sister's cries reminded him of her distress. "Cade," he replied respectfully. "Thank you," Cade added as he slowly turned to spring awkwardly down the grassy slope.

As Edward watched the two, he marveled at the unconditional trust and forgiveness children possess. Anna trusted that her brother would not lead her into danger. Nonetheless, even wrapped in her fear, she readily forgave Cade after escaping the hole by reaching for him for protection. By her reaction to his presence, Edward knew Anna would continue to follow her brother without question because she trusted him and his judgment. As her older brother, Cade had no choice but to except the responsibility to assure his sibling's safety.

With the children's relationship on his mind, Edward inevitably arrived at the memory stuck on his mind the entire trip to Central. He recalled the shadows dancing on Alphonse's cherub face from the candles lighting the makeshift laboratory while he voiced his concerns about the dangers of committing the age-old taboo. Once Edward assured Alphonse the transmutation circle the two designed and created was flawless, Alphonse settled and proceeded alongside him without further protest. Flashes of the catastrophe that followed filled Edward's thoughts and tortured him.

Edward failed to protect his little brother, and he nearly lost Alphonse forever. Blinded by grief over their mother's death, Edward refused to listen to reason. His mistake should have cost both brothers their lives. Although Edward did not believe in the existence of God or miracles, he could not deny the incredible luck of the boys' survival. blood loss should have robbed Edward of his ability to form a successful transmutation before he bound Alphonse's soul to the old suit of armor. Without Alphonse's assistance, Edward would have lost consciousness and bled to death before his kind self-appointed guardian Pinako checked on the boys the following morning.

Emotions filled his eyes and threatened to spill over, and he thanked the sky for creating the rain. If he could not contain the tears, Alphonse would not know the difference between the rain and the salty liquid cascading down his cheeks.

"Brother?" Alphonse called uneasily. "You're doing it again..."

Edward broke from his reverie and turned to his brother. Despite the present impossibility of seeing Alphonse's human face outside his memory, Edward could feel the concerned scrunching of Alphonse's facial features. His unseen expression pleaded for Edward to confide in him.

He forced a comforting smile. "Sorry, Al," Edward muttered.

"Are you all right?"

Edward closed his eyes, drew a deep inhale, and reveled in the sensation of the rain beating against his skin. He needed to forgive himself like Alphonse did years ago, but he found the task more difficult than his brother. Edward concluded to pretend to forgive himself-for his brother's sake-until he truly could. After all, the transmutation used to bind Alphonse's soul in the armor was a success: Alphonse was alive. Edward did not fail, and he vowed to prevent any such harm to befall Alphonse again.

"I'm fine." Opening his eyes to grin wholeheartedly at his brother, Edward reached his automail arm out to receive his suitcase.

He felt Alphonse's expression lighten to a smile, and Edward intercepted his luggage. As his arm lowered to his side, a flash of blinding white light flooded his world. The light stole Alphonse from his vision. Edward felt his body lift into the air.

He did not feel his feet return to the ground, but Edward suddenly felt a solid surface beneath him. His surroundings remained white and barren. Turning in place in an attempt to determine his location, Edward saw a massive structure and froze.

The Gate towered before him, intricately-detailed doors closed. The Gate stood alone with no structure in sight for support, mystifying further any who dare to enter. Without a specified light source in the white, endless space, no shadows formed from neither The Gate nor Edward. No human could decipher the ground from the hypothetical walls and ceiling, if such structures existed at all in The Gate's presence.

He stared in horror at The Gate for several moments, all too familiar with the tragedies foolish alchemists experience upon viewing The Gate's taboo contents. A still figure at the foot of the doors caught his eye, and his stomach jumped into his throat.

"A-Alphonse?" Edward croaked. His foot slid forward unconsciously. "Al?"

The lying boy did not budge. He wore no clothing, and his body was in pristine condition. He appeared the proper age. Alphonse's sandy brown hair was trimmed short to approximately the same proportions as his childhood hairstyle. His body's condition portrayed a well-fed, healthy, muscular teenage boy.

He quickly realized the logic did not add up. If Alphonse's body grew, his hair should have grown, as well. He should be underweight from lack of nutrition with severe muscle deterioration. The inconsistencies caused Edward immense disquiet, and he found himself sprinting to his brother's side.

Alphonse's chest, like the rest of his body, was motionless. However, he showed no signs of death. Colors of life kissed his childish cheeks. Edward knelt over him and cupped Alphonse's face in both hands, and he discovered the skin to be warm to the touch.

Edward examined Alphonse's motionless face, and he moved his left hand-the closer of the two-to Alphonse's shoulder. His automail right hand slid underneath the boy's head and neck, and Edward's flesh left arm curved around his brother's torso to lift Alphonse into his lap. Edward shook him gently.

"Alphonse," he whispered worriedly, marveling at the sight of his little brother's face.

"Hello again, young alchemist," a familiar voice jeered.

Edward's head snapped at attention, and he instinctively lowered his body over his brother's protectively. the white, faceless figure of a child sat bow-legged several feet to his left, distinct out-of-place shadows defining the figure from the surrounding landscape. An impossibly-white smile acted as the only facial feature. The smile mocked Edward mercilessly. That smile _always_ mocked him.

"Truth," Edward addressed. "What is this? What do you want? We didn't transmute anything!"

"You forget, young alchemist," Truth explained while rising to stand. "I am many things, and alchemy is not the only way to reach this place."

He remembered Truth was also considered to be God. Edward scowled and asked venomously, "Am I dead, then?"

"Not quite. Almost," Truth gibed. "But not today."

As the mysterious being stepped closer, Edward demanded, "Then why are we here, and what did you do to Alphonse?"

"That is his soul that you hold," Truth declared matter-of-factly. "It is unconscious, so it is here."

Edward pulled Alphonse's soul to his chest, guarding him from Truth's wrath. He knew running would prove useless, because the mighty being could manipulate the space with no effort and catch him easily. He prepared for the worst and growled viciously, "I paid the price for his soul; you can't have him back. I won't let you!"

He clutched his only remaining family tighter, so Edward felt Alphonse's hair and forehead brush against the sensitive skin of his throat. Edward did not flinch as Truth's small hand reached out for his forehead.

"I have no business with your brother," Truth sneered, icy cold fingers pressing against Edward's forehead between his eyes. "It is _you_."


	2. Chapter 2: That Guy

**Chapter 2: That Guy**

Edward cracked his eyes open and his blurry eyes attempted to focus on the world around him. His senses were entirely askew, and he could not concentrate enough to locate his limbs. Even with his eyes open, he remained disturbingly disoriented. A massive, distorted suit of armor sat on the floor against the wall, barely a few inches from his bed, with the head bowed pensively. He inadvertently released a quiet grunt when he attempted to sit up, resulting in the suit's immediate attention. Neither spoke-or Edward remained much too disoriented to acknowledge speech around him-as the hospitalized boy struggled to sit up. He noticed his automail had been removed and an IV thread into his remaining arm.

The blindingly-white Central Hospital room scorched his corneas, and a light ringing echoed in his ears unpleasantly. The barely-detectable sound irritated him, but noises outside the room covered the monotone bells. He only heard the sound in silences. He compared the bells to attempting to see through darkness. If his surroundings were dark, his eyes showed him tiny specs of light that a well-lit area could mask with little effort-although the tiny lights never truly disappeared. The tiny specs of light acted as the soft bells: loud in silence and barely noticeable when he heard other noises.

The metal suit watched agitatedly, too dazed to speak until, "Edw-"

"Where is Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes?" Edward demanded. He attempted to sound gruff and firm, but too much life had been zapped from him to allow him to sound too intimidating.

"Out in the hall..."

"I need to speak with him immediately." The alchemist's voice remained clipped and detached.

Alphonse feared his older brother felt anger toward him for attracting the lightning bolt that landed him in the hospital, and he therefore did not want to speak with him. He did not argue and stood unsteadily on his partially-melted joints to call out into the hall. "Mr. Hughes? Brother's awake. He wants to see you," Alphonse's meek voice echoed through the empty armor to the man.

The unshaven man scratched his chin and set his coffee on the table next to him and his slumbering wife and daughter. As soon as his office received the news of Edward's accident, he and his family worriedly rushed to the hospital to monitor the boy's health. His young, innocent daughter refused to leave until she knew her surrogate big brother would survive. Although the family arrived nearly 12 hours ago, Elicia never once complained about the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room or the lack of tasty food in the hospital cafeteria. Any complaint she vocalized regarded the unbearable wait to learn Edward's latest status.

Maes rubbed his eyes in exhaustion and heaved a hefty sigh. He adjusted his spectacles as he stood, straightened his shirt, and marched into the alchemist's room. Despite the lack of sleep and the early morning hour, he portrayed himself like a well-rested and energetic man. "Heya, kiddo! How are you feeling?" he boomed cheerfully. "You gave us all quite a scare, y'know!"

Edward stared at the wall parallel to him intently. "Can we talk in private?" He glanced to the suit of armor distastefully, clearly indicating his desire for the boy to leave the room.

Maes raised an eyebrow in confusion. Usually the situation was reversed with Edward wanting to speak to Alphonse without military ears present. Nonetheless Maes nodded to Alphonse to dismiss the boy and turned back to Edward only after the younger Elric closed the door behind him. "So what's up?"

Edward rose his hand to his face, rubbing life into his skin. "What happened?" His hand lowered to his side with a sigh. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, what's the last thing you remember? Let's start there." Maes grabbed the nearest chair and straddled the back to make himself comfortable.

Edward's eyebrows furrowed in thought and he clenched the blanket beneath his hand to contain his frustration over his inability to remember such recent events. "I... I was in Risembool getting my automail checked..."

Maes nodded in confirmation.

After a few more moments of brain-busting silence, Edward shook his head. "And that's it."

"So you don't remember the lightning?"

"Lightning?" Edward turned to his metal stump and only then noticed the melted material from the intense heat of conduction.

"It's a miracle you survived, really. You've been out stone-cold for hours." Maes watched the teenage prodigy stare at the damage at his shoulder before yanking the blankets off the bed to inspect the damage to the port as his thigh. "The lightning stopped your heart."

Edward continued staring in awe and disbelief at the news and his miraculous survival, ignoring the burn bandages located at the bottom of his human foot and metal-encased shoulder and thigh. He finally heaved a heavy sigh. "Winry's gonna kill me..." he moaned.

Despite himself, Maes chuckled. "If that's all you're worried about, you're gonna be just fine." He climbed out of his position on the chair and turned to leave. "Speaking of which, she should be here sometime today to fit you with new automail."

"All right, thanks, Hughes..." Edward mumbled.

As Maes gripped the door handle, he heard the boy behind him ask, "Hey, Lieutenant-Colonel?"

Resting his hand on the knob, he turned and inquired, "What is it, sport?"

"Who was that guy?"

"What guy, Ed?"

Maes released the door and turned completely to face the bed. "What are you talking about?"

Frustrated with the man's insolence, Edward huffed, "Who else? The guy that was just in here! Who is he, and what was he doing in my room?"

The man furrowed his eyebrows, slowly realizing what Edward was asking. "Are you talking about the armor?"

"Of course I am! Jeez, what's wrong with you today, Hughes?" Edward spat.

"You don't know who is in the suit of armor?" he asked slowly to confirm.

With an aggravated sigh, Edward asked, "That's what I've been saying, isn't it?"

When Maes determined Edward was entirely serious, he covered his mouth and exhaled, "My God, you really don't remember..."

Edward's tone softened as the gravity of his father-figure's words sunk in. "Why, should I?"

Maes pursed his lips and considered the possible courses of action. He could not allow Alphonse to find out about his brother's amnesia until Edward spoke with a specialist. Until he discovered how much of the alchemist's memories was compromised, Maes concluded few people should be notified. First he needed to find a nurse to check the newly-awakened boy's status.

"Why don't you get some rest? I'll find a nurse," Maes declared as he turned to the door.

"Lieutenant-Colonel," Edward called. A hint of worry tickled his voice. He recognized the deep concern etched in the man's face, and Edward wanted to know the source. "Is something wrong?"

Maes did not trust his facial expression to face the amnesiac, and replied to the door calmly, "No, Ed."

He strode out of the room and ordered Alphonse, "Wait out here." Without missing a beat, Maes continued to the nurse's station down the hall. A young nurse wearing a pink uniform sat behind the desk, surrounded in paperwork. She did not acknowledge his approach, buried in her work, and continued to scribble on papers and cross-reference documents.

"Edward Elric in room four twenty-one is awake," he announced.

The brunette lifted her head from her task and smiled. "Good to hear!" she chirped as she stood. "I'll go check his vitals again."

"There's something else." Maes folded his arms on the counter, holding his elbows in either hand, as he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Do you have a neurologist on call?"

"Of course!" the woman replied proudly. She glanced at the clock behind her and continued, "In fact... he should be coming in soon."

"When?"

"In about an hour."

Drawing his fingers across his scalp, elbows firmly planted on the counter, Maes sighed, "I need you to call him in early. You should probably call in a psychiatrist, too, while you're at it."

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"I'm pretty sure the lightning affected his brain. He seems to have suffered some memory loss, and I need to find out if anything else is wrong."

"He should be fine until the doctors arrive for their scheduled hours-"

"Please," Maes interrupted with a glimpse at her name-tag. "Janice, I just want him checked out before his automail mechanic gets here. They're childhood friends, and I don't want him under unnecessary stress if he can't remember. So the more information I can pass on, the better. My boss is going to want a status report soon, anyway."

Janice acquiesced and reached for the telephone. "I'll be there in a moment," she informed the man with a polite smile.

He mirrored her gesture and nodded. "Thank you," he whispered. Maes turned and strode down the hall. He quickly discovered Alphonse's creaking, disfigured joints and clunking metal armor woke his family during his absence.

"Daddy!" Elicia cheered from her place beside Alphonse, dolls in each hand. Her snow-white teddy bear rested in Alphonse's lap, and Maes concluded he just intruded on Elicia proudly presenting her new toys to her surrogate big brother. She scurried to her father, arms outstretched.

He scooped her into his arms and continued walking with hardly a pause. She immediately gripped his shirt sleeve and tugged insistently. "Daddy! Daddy, big brother Al said little brother is awake!"

Maes nodded and glanced to his wife, who watched him with a worried frown, and replied, "Uh-huh."

Not satisfied with his response, Elicia tugged on his sleeve more roughly, repeating, "_Daddy_, little brother is _awake_!"

"I know, sweetie," Maes assured as he raised a hand to ease her tugs.

"I want to go in and see him!" she begged. "Please?"

"Not right now," he muttered. He kept his voice low to avoid alarming Alphonse to Edward's condition.

"But why?" she whined with a disappointed scowl.

"Some doctors have to make sure he's okay before everyone can see him," Maes explained vaguely. He could not lie to his little angel by telling her that Edward was the epitome of health, but he did not want her to worry before a doctor could confirm what he discovered. He stretched a grin on his face and declared, "Hey, I know! How about you and big brother Alphonse and Mommy all go get some breakfast? Maybe the doctors will say you can see him by the time you get back!"

"Yay!" she squealed. Elicia squirmed excitedly for escape until her father set her on the floor. She trotted to Alphonse and grasped three of his fingers with one hand. "Let's go, let's go!"

Although Alphonse possessed more than enough strength to overpower her, he allowed her to drag him to his feet and down the hall without protest. Gracia lingered behind, drawing Alphonse to glance in her direction. He knew Maes was trying to keep a secret about his brother's condition, but he did not want to ask the man in Elicia's presence. When Gracia called, "I'll catch up with you in a minute," Alphonse knew he faced only one option: to wait for the answer and continue to the cafeteria with the little girl.

Once the children moved out of earshot, Gracia asked, "What's going on, dear?"  
He frowned and watched over her shoulder to make sure the departing duet could not hear him and to avoid eye contact. "He suffered some kind of trauma to his brain. He didn't recognize Alphonse," Maes explained quietly.

Her eyes widened, and she raised her closed fist to cover her mouth. Gracia shut her eyes and exhaled, "My God..."

"Al doesn't know, and I don't want any more people to see him until he's been evaluated," he finished, turning his gaze to her.

"How are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just want to find out how much memory he's lost and go from there." Maes heard footsteps approaching from behind, so he twisted his head to identify Janice as the newcomer. He turned to his wife and smiled softly. "I'll stay here; you go catch up with Elicia and Alphonse and get some breakfast."

"Do you want me to get you anything?" she offered.

He wrapped his arms around her torso. "No, thank you," he murmured before he touched his lips to hers. "You go ahead."

She smiled, turned, and began her journey to the cafeteria. Maes rotated in place 180 degrees to address the nurse. "Did you reach the doctors?" he inquired.

Janice nodded. "They will be here soon." She motioned to the door. "Would you like to join us, sir?"

Maes reached for the door handle in reply and held the door open for the woman. She bowed her head gratefully and proceeded inside with Maes close behind. While he remained by the door like a loyal watchdog, Janice approached the left side of the bed and chirped, "Good morning, Mr. Elric!"

The patient's head whipped away from the window on his right to face his visitor. He graced her with a smile. "Good morning."

Encouraged by his response, Janice inquired, "How are you feeling?" She halted at the side of his bed and gathered the tools she required.

"Tired," Edward admitted.

"Not surprising," she assured. "Your heart took quite a beating!" The nurse wedged her right hand beneath his torso to support between his shoulder blades, and she offered her left hand to his to lift him into a sitting position. "You're pret-ty lucky, ya'know."

"So I've heard," he smirked.

Janice placed the earpieces of her stethoscope in her ears and reached the receiver under his shirt to rest on the rib area of his back. "Take a deep breath for me," she instructed.

Edward inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, as instructed, several times while Janice's focused expression looked at nothing and shuffled the device around his back. Finished monitoring his lungs, she withdrew the tool and set the stethoscope to the side. Edward watched her movements intently as she lifted his wrist to record his heart rate.

"So how long have you been nursing?" he prodded.

"I've been an apprentice for..." she muttered as she scratched his heart rate down on his chart, "a couple different doctors since I was ten." Janice plucked a black arm cuff from the nearby table of tools and wrapped the device around his upper arm. "And I applied for a job here when I moved here a couple months ago," she finished.

Equipped with her stethoscope once again, receiver pressed to the inside of his arm, she squeezed the pump to tighten the cuff on her patient's bicep. She stared at the attached monitor silently for a few moments before releasing the pressure and recording the results. As she popped the stethoscope's earpieces from her ears, she chirped, "Your vitals are excellent, Mr. Elric!"

"'Edward' is fine," he consented. Edward watched her slip the blood pressure monitor from his arm and asked, "Do you like nursing?"

"It's hard work and long hours, so it doesn't leave much time for fun-"

"I know the feeling," he teased with a smirk.

She visibly muffled her forming smile. "-but I like helping people. I also get to meet some interesting characters."

"You don't say," he commented smoothly.

Watching the exchange, Maes could not believe his eyes. He met both Elrics years ago, and Maes felt he knew their personalities fairly well. Observing Edward's conversation with the nurse, however, flabbergasted him. Maes heard the alchemist prodigy speak with beautiful young women in the past, but Edward never behaved the way he did toward Janice. Edward's charm changed to full throttle. Maes felt eerily reminded of his best-friend-slash-superior Roy Mustang: on a mission to woo with no intention of long-term commitment.

Without the mental and emotional baggage to return his brother's body to flesh and bone, Edward's world expanded beyond his brother and their goal of restoration. Since Edward did not have to consider Alphonse's well-being, he could shift his focus to subjects important to average teenagers. Judging by his shameless flirting, Maes concluded, Edward discovered women with his newfound mental freedom-and perhaps learned his methods from Roy.

Janice nodded and hummed, "Mm-hmm."

Edward graced her with a smile. "Once I'm discharged, you and I should go out to dinner, so you can tell me all about it. My treat," he tempted.

Her cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink, and the corners of her lips twitched with the effort of not returning his smile. "I'm flattered, but my boyfriend probably wouldn't take it too kindly," she giggled.

"It's just a casual dinner! Why would it bother him?" he defended innocently.

She eyed him with a barely-suppressed smirk. "No thank you," Janice articulated. The nurse gathered her tools and ventured for the door. "Your doctors will be in to see you soon."


	3. Chapter 3: Mass of Red Lightning

**Chapter 3: Mass of Red Lightning  
**

Alphonse wrung his fingers in his lap distractedly while he watched maes walk away with the demanding doctors who recently finished evaluating Edward. He disliked that neither Maes nor the doctors seemed willing to include him about his brother's status. Although aware of Elicia's eager voice begging for his attention, Alphonse could not concentrate on matters unrelated to his brother. He strained to listen to the distant conversation of Maes and the doctors to no avail. Ordered not to enter, Alphonse forced himself to remain outside Edward's room. After a few moments, he barely heard Gracia whisper to her daughter; and Elicia ceased her attempts to speak to him. He turned his attention from the doctors when he heard the woman gently call his name.

He discovered her hand leaning over Elicia to rest on his metal, unfeeling right leg. She smiled comfortingly like a mother bracing her child against possibly-tragic news. He appreciated the gesture. Gracia, unlike most people he met, remembered to treat him like the frightened 14-year-old boy he was. Most adults treated him like an emotionally-stable adult, a veteran to family catastrophe. The one person he leaned on was hospitalized and no one would update him, not even to assure him all was well.

She patted his leg softly, and a hollow sound rang through his armor solemnly. "It'll be all right, Alphonse. Don't worry."

He felt the phantom sensation of tears welling in his eyes; he paused to compose his voice. "Why won't they tell me anything?"

"If it was life-threatening, they would tell you right away," she assured.

"But they would tell me right away if he's okay!" he countered, the pitch of his voice rising with inner panic. "I just want to know what's going on..."

"Al! Mrs. Hughes!" a familiar voice called. "Elicia!"

"Winry!" Elicia shrieked gleefully, glad to break from the upsetting conversation around her.

Alphonse looked down the hallway and spotted his childhood friend and neighbor lugging a suitcase in one hand and a massive briefcase in the other. despite her fair frame, the strength she developed as a mechanic eased the task of carrying the objects in her grasp. Her hair hung loose and swung at her waist, barely above the top half of the light-khaki jumpsuit resting casually on her hips. Her black spaghetti-strap top ruffled with her movements, but she ignored the awkwardly-bunching cloth.

"I came as soon as I heard," Winry huffed. "How is he?"

Gracia withdrew her hand fro Alphonse. "He's awake," she reported with a ton of optimism.

Alphonse suddenly realized how tense Winry's body was upon arrival, because she released a shaky exhale and loosened her muscles at Gracia's assurance. He noticed dark shadows beneath her eyes that betrayed her sleepless night of worry. Her quivering lips twisted into a small smile of relief. "Good," she sighed with a half-hysterical chuckle. "That's great."

Despite her track record of emotional stability-other than the occasional rage released through the wrath of her wrench-Alphonse recognized she was fighting the urge to fall apart. Her body shook from the bone as she set her suitcase on the floor and knelt to greet Elicia. The little girl trotted into Winry's arms for a welcoming hug.

"Hey, Elicia," Winry whispered into her ear. Alphonse heard her voice strain to hold cheer, and he loathed the awful sound. "It's good to see you."

Elicia released Winry and indicated to her briefcase. "What's that?"

The massive case weighing down her shoulder glared back ominously as curious eyes settled on the object. "This?" Winry asked with the slight twist of her torso to bring the briefcase into better view. "Ed needs a new arm and leg, so I brought the stuff I need to make them." she explained.

"Wouldn't it have been easier just to make them in Risembool, and _then_ bring them here?" Alphonse asked innocently. Surely the complex process of automail creation would prove only more difficult outside her well-prepared workshop?

"I started it before I came, but..." Winry confessed. Her hand gripped the shoulder strap tighter unconsciously. "I wanted to be here as soon as I could, in case..."

"Winry, when did you get here?" Maes' voice echoed from behind as he strode down the hall.

She craned her head to see him. "Urhm, just now," Winry replied.

Alphonse's armor shrieked with protest as he stood to address the man. "Lieutenant-Colonel?" he pleaded.

Maes rolled his eyes skyward to meet the armor's gaze.

"How is he? What did the doctors say?"

He drew a deep breath, scrunching his brow. Maes removed his spectacles to massage the bridge of his nose. "His life isn't in any danger, but-"

"What's wrong?" Alphonse squeaked.

Winry's attention snapped to her friend. "What are you talking about? Mr. Hughes said he's fine!" She looked back at Maes' troubled face. "He's... He's fine, isn't he?" When he remained silent, she ventured, "Mr. Hughes...?"

The man fidgeted with his glasses in his hand like a child procrastinating a confession. He slipped the spectacles on his face with a sigh. "This isn't easy for me to tell you this, but I had Ed see a couple different doctors." Maes' eyes drifted to each face of his concerned audience before he managed to collect enough courage to admit, "He's suffered some major memory loss."

As Winry's eyes became over-bright with forming tears, Maes looked Alphonse in the faintly-glowing spaces deemed as his eyes. Maes carried a warm, business-like sympathy in the gesture. He could not inform the Elric more gently while keeping himself fully composed. While his words were far from cold, he was obviously detaching himself momentarily to speak. He barely noticed Gracia wordlessly remove his daughter from the immediate vicinity, and Winry pulled herself to her feet to listen.

Maes lowered his voice. "He has no memories of binding you to the armor, Alphonse. His memories of you stop after The Gate took your body. As far as he knows, you died that night. The psychiatrist said you were a pretty sensitive subject... Ed got so upset, they had to drug him so he wouldn't over-work his heart... Considering the condition his heart is in, the stress of bringing it up could very possibly kill him. Until his heart has recovered to a more stable state, no one is to try to tell him you're alive unless his memories come back on their own..."

He observed Winry turn to gauge Alphonse's reaction to the news. Maes dropped his business-like detachment and whispered, "I am so sorry..."

Head bowed, Alphonse clenched his fists in silence. The man's word pierced him like a knife to the gut. He remembered the conversation he and his brother shared, and he remembered Edward's face. The mere _thought_ of losing Alphonse that night horrified Edward. Alphonse could not fathom the emotional anguish his dear brother felt. He wanted to bust into the room. He wanted to assure Edward of his transmutation's success. Alphonse wanted to show him that Edward's little brother was alive.

Although he longed to do so, Alphonse could not utter a word about himself to Edward. The stress the news could cause Edward's fragile heart would surely kill him. Alphonse doubted Edward's despair could allow him to have faith in such a declaration, anyway.

However, Edward's hospitalization meant his survival. Alphonse's only remaining family was alive, and words lacked the power to adequately express his gratitude. "I-It's Equivalent Exchange... If Ed's memories of me had to be lost for him to live, I'll take it," he announced, retreating to the familiar realm of science to console himself and make sense of the unfortunate circumstances.

"Al, this isn't alch-" Winry began. She silenced upon feeling the deep burn of sorrow radiating from him. Ashamed of nearly stealing her friend's emotional defense from him, she turned to Maes. "When can we see him?"

"Any time now," Maes replied with a vague flip of his hand toward the patient's door.

Winry turned to Alphonse for moral support, but he readily reached for the door without providing her with the opportunity to speak.

When Alphonse opened the door and entered the room, he caught a glimpse of his brother staring out the window like in a trance. The screeching of Alphonse's armor entering the room pulled Edward from his reverie. An unnatural, subtle glaze brightened Edward's eyes, a lingering piece of evidence from his meeting with the psychiatrist earlier that morning. He watched the foggy mind belatedly react to his presence, and the expression on Edward's face alerted Alphonse to his lack of desire for visitors.

When Winry stepped out from behind Alphonse, an expression of guilty horror flashed across Edward's features. He immediately masked the emotion with a smile as she approached the bed. "What are you doing here, Winry?" Edward asked lightheartedly. "What'd you do with the cute nurse?"

Winry's cheeks flushed red with anger, and she raised her fist in reflex. Edward did not flinch as her knuckles whizzed past his face to strike his pillow near his right ear. She dared not injure him further, but she knew few other methods of expression such anger to him. Therefore she resorted to flicking her finger against his accessible and tender ear in a feeble attempt to instill remorse in him for his insensitivity to her feeling. She sat on the edge of the bed indignantly, glowering at him in silence.

He graed her with a lop-sided smile, entirely unphased by his stinging ear in his medicated state. "Is that it? I think you might be losing your touch," he teased lethargically.

The collected tears poised on her lower eyelids spilled over as she spat, "You jerk!"

His head tilted in her direction, and he innocently inquired, "Why are you crying?"

She withdrew her hand from his ear to cast a veil over her eyes while she fought to halt her tears. "You almost _died_, and you say something like _that_?" she choked.

If he was born a dog, Alphonse imagined Edward's ears flattened against his skull and tail tucked between his legs in remorse at her display of emotion. Edward appeared physically injured by Winry's distress, and Alphonse wondered how his brother planned to escape the situation. Crying, especially Winry's, made Edward uncomfortable. Alphonse expected his brother to grow silent and distance himself emotionally until she calmed, so Alphonse grew perplexed when Edward did not retreat.

Edward rocked to his left side to shift his weight to his elbow, and he dizzily heaved his torso from the inclined bed to near her. "But I'm okay, Winry, see?" he insisted. His torso involuntarily swayed to the side, and Alphonse momentarily feared Edward would tumble to the floor. Edward gripped the mattress edge firmly and therefore stabilized himself before Winry noticed.

"Winry," Edward called pleadingly as he leaned forward like a wounded dog seeking forgiveness from his master.

After Edward eased his weight off his arm, he reached forward to wrap his arm around her neck and draw her into an embrace. "Please, don't cry," he murmured. "I'm fine. Really!"

"I'm not crying!" she snapped defiantly through her sniffles. "...Jerk..."

He chuckled softly, heart visibly lightened by the sound of her improving mood. "Of course not," he replied.

She cleared her tears upon release and rasped, "Now let me take a look at what's left of your automail." Winry slid off the bed and rounded to the opposite side to examine the shoulder port better.

As she neared the foot of the bed during her journey, Alphonse noted the unsettled expression sprawled across her features. He attributed her disquiet to the shock from Edward's uncharacteristically-intimate gesture. To the best of her ability, she quickly neutralized her expression before approaching his bedside again.

Winry quietly cleared her throat and ordered, "Off with the shirt."

Edward's body fluctuated dangerously when he attempted to balance in an upright position. He clasped the bottom hem of his hospital-issued shirt and fumbled to pull the accessory off. The required coordination baffled his handicapped senses. He pulled and tugged on the cloth, but he progressed no further.

Alphonse felt disheartened by the display. He knew Edward's medicated state was temporary, but watching his strong and intelligent brother struggle with such a simple task disturbed Alphonse.

Winry undoubtedly felt similarly, for she pitied him enough to assist him in the task of removing the shirt. "Let's see what we're working with," she piped as she slid the shirt over his head. Allowing the article to hang off his right arm gently-for the I.V. obstructed the path to complete removal-provided Winry an undisturbed view of Edward's shoulder port.

She froze, unable to speak. Alphonse watched the color drain from her face, and he momentarily feared she might faint. Her gaze rested on neither the melted steel nor the wrapped burns nearby. She stepped back, and a wave of nausea struck her like an industrial wrecking ball. "Oh, Ed..."

Believing she spoke of the metal, Edward assured, "It's not that bad... I can transmute it to make it shape right again. I don't think the wires were damaged very badly. The doctor said most of the power hit something else."

Alphonse glanced down at his distorted form and briefly thought about his strange memory gap during the incident.

"It's not that..." Winry croaked, stomach in her throat. Her eyes locked on the lightning-patterned minor burns that littered the skin of his torso. The needle-thin marks radiated from the metal port and danced down his back and chest, a mass of red lightning bolts against the sun-kissed skin.

Leaning heavily on his left arm for support, Edward strained to see her. He discovered her hands over her mouth in horror. "What?" he asked carefully.

When she could not respond, Edward turned away to conjure an idea to console her. He looked up at Alphonse and scowled.. The State Alchemist's expression convinced Alphonse that Edward was unaware, until that point, the metal figure remained in the room unnoticed-and therefore witnessed the emotional scene.

Edward glared at Alphonse. "Do you _mind_?" he asked scornfully. "This is _private_."

"Ed!" Winry gasped angrily through her nausea. "Don't talk to him like that!"

"Why?" he asked, demanding to know why he was suddenly under scrutiny for wanting privacy.

Alphonse hung his head and shrank back in sorrowful silence.


	4. Chapter 4: Never Even Mentioned You

_**[Author's Note]** Wow! This chapter took FOREVER to write...and not much happened in it. Sorry =( I had planned on more happening, but I guess that'll have to wait until chapter five, won't it? Sorry it's taken so long! Completely excluding my health, college has been keeping me really busy. Luckily, spring break is in two weeks and I finished my research paper rough draft early! (I still need to make revisions though... ugghhh!) I may post some revisions later. =/ Something about this chapter isn't sitting quite right with me... Enjoy! **[/AN]**_

**Chapter 4: Never Even Mentioned You**

Alphonse waited wordlessly in the corner of the room for the remainder of the day. After Winry scolded him, Edward did not spea to the mysterious metal suit. By the time Winry left for the Hughes' residence, Edward began to recover from the medication's effects.

With a better grip on his thoughts and senses, Edward grew less outwardly hostile toward Alphonse's presence. The lengthy scowling stares faded away to the occasional icy sidelong glance.

Countless doctors and nurses fluttered in and out of the room to monitor and explore Edward's condition. The patient ignored their presence, and he managed to doze off from time to time to sleep off the hefty medications. During one such nap, as the sun sunk lazily below the horizon, Maes ventured into the room to speak privately with Alphonse. He preferred to discuss matters with the boy in the hall, well out of Edward's earshot, but Alphonse refused to leave his brother's side.

Maes poked his head in the room and searched for signs of alertness in Edward's peaceful form. "Is he asleep?" Maes inquired softly.

Alphonse observed Edward's relaxed features. The tension present on his face during consciousness long-melted to the bliss of sleep. His chest rose and fell steadily in small, shallow breaths. Although he lied on his back, his head faced the door so the window's light could not disrupt his rest and he could readily identify intruders if he should awake. His arm rested loosely over his abdomen, which Alphonse recognized as his habit. From years of quietly waiting for his brother to rise each morning, Alphonse's experience could not fail an accurate conclusion.

"Yeah," Alphonse replied.

Maes entered the room to address the boy face-to-face. "So... How is it going... between you two...?" when he heard no reply, he added, "Winry told me what happened."  
"He isn't speaking to me," Alphonse finally whispered. Despite the lack of bodily organs, he felt his theoretical stomach winding into unpleasant knots.

"I think he'll come around," he encouraged. Maes observed the alchemist's slumber pensively for several beats before he added, "He just needs to get used to you."

He mulled over the memory of the Elrics' initial hostility toward the military officers they now considered comrades. Although reluctant to place full trust in the officers, the brothers felt comfortable around the team. Alphonse disliked viewing the new relationship with his brother in that way, but he could not deny the similarity.

"I suppose," Alphonse muttered in defeat.

"Thatta boy," Maes chirped with an optimistic smile. He allowed the aspect to sink in before his smile faded. "I spoke with Colonel Mustang on the phone earlier today; I told him about what's going on. He wants you to pose as Ed's bodyguard for the time being. That way, you can stay with him and not have to answer the more complicated stuff."

"Knowing Ed, he probably won't ask anything," Alphonse muttered.

Maes silenced for a moment, an indication he foresaw the prediction, as well; but he did not want to depress the younger Elric. He continued, "He has too much to do tonight, but he said he plans to stop by in the morning. In the meantime-"

Edward stirred in the bed, and his respiration pattern shifted.

Recognizing the signs of his waking, Maes finished, "...just do what you gotta do. I'm going to head out before he wakes up. Take care!"

"Good night," Alphonse replied to the man's retreating back. His attention readjusted to his brother.

Edward gradually grew aware of his surroundings, and he blankly stared up at the ceiling while his senses returned to him. Minutes passed before he ventured his hand from his abdomen to scrub his face. He raked his fingers through his hair and glanced around the room. His gaze drifted over Alphonse, but he recognized the figure belatedly and returned his focus to the suit of the metal. Alphonse felt the subtle hostility radiate from Edward's unreadable expression. Neither hate nor content mastered Edward's features, remaining neutral. However Alphonse, who knew his brother better than any other soul on the planet, knew Edward did not approve of his presence.

Nonetheless, Winry's kind treatment of the metal suit rang within Edward. He resolved to make an effort to be civil, at the very least. How Edward felt about the arrangement was a separate matter entirely. He heaved a sigh.

"So... since no one seems to want to tell me... Who are you?" Edward asked.

He jumped in surprise, caught off-guard by the attempt at conversation. "Al..." he began, extending the length of the "L" while he groped for coherent thought. "... -lex... My name is Alex. Most people call me 'Al.' I'm your bodyguard."

A mournful grimace threatened to dominate his expression at the mention of the familiar nickname, but Edward recovered his emotions briskly. "'Alex,' huh? Do you have a last name?"

He paused for a moment before he answered, "That's classified." Fabricating a surname could lead him into trouble, so Alphonse chose to stretch the truth. To Edward, Alphonse's last name _was_ considered classified.

"I see," Edward replied curtly. He reached out for the wheel-equipped table beside his bed and dragged the device closer. His supper rest on top of the structure, and he was starving. Between the doctor examinations, visitors, and naps; Edward had no time to eat a proper meal since he first awoke.

"You staying all night?" asked Edward as he centered the conveniently-designed table before him.

"Yeah."

"Don't you have something better to do? Somewhere to be?" The amnesiac's question lacked spite; he sounded mildly curious. Lingering in a perfectly-capable State Alchemist's hospital recovery room was not an appealing pasttime to Edward, so he could not fathom why the stranger would choose to do so. He did not recall an order of protection, so what prompted him to stay? What motivation drove him? In the hallway, at least he could move around more and worry less about disturbing patients with unintentional noise.

"The only place I need to be is here," Alphonse declared carefully.

Staring at the thick slab of ham on his plate, Edward cursed under his breath in frustration, "Crap! Brilliant thinking, idiots. How am I supposed to eat this?" Louder, to Alphonse, he voiced, "Sounds like a typical military answer, to me."

Edward glared at the meat contemplatively. "But, really, wouldn't you rather be at home or something?" He speared the center of the ham firmly with his fork. "Ya'know, with your family or something?"

"I don't have one," he mumbled.

Edward's eyes fixated on the food solemnly. Alphonse watched the coldness of his brother's memories creeping into Edward's mind. The amnesiac remained silent for what felt like hours but was no longer than half a minute. Finally he spoke, voice strained like he was uncertain he wanted to hear the answer. "What happened to them?"

Alphonse considered possible responses. How could he explain his father? He had no contact with the man within his natural memory, so he did not know if the man was alive or deceased.

His mother passed away when he was a child; Alphonse knew he need not explain her death. He held no desire to speak of her tragic illness, anyway.

What about Edward?

The amnesiac in the bed was undeniably Edward Elric, son of Hoenheim of Light and Tricia Elric, the FullMetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, native of rural Risembool, and the best automail customer of Winry and Pinako Rockbell.

However, without his memories, Edward was like a different person. The teen was colder, less compassionate with Alphonse's supposed death. Perhaps the detested hospital environment combined with the new weakness and discomfort of his condition influenced his behavior. After all, Alphonse imagined he would be a grouch, as well, if he were in Edward's position.

At least for now, the patient in the bed was not his brother. To Edward, Alphonse was dead.

"They're gone."

Edward stared at the ham on the end of his fork, pensive silence envelooping him. To most people, Edward merely appeared to be thinking, but Alphonse read his brother like a book in a language only he understood. The inner battle of whether or not he wanted to inquire into the matter further was written plainly on his face, and the memories of his own past hid in his inverted posture.

He hurriedly recovered his composure and tore a massive chunk from the ham with his teeth. The pleasing taste coaxed his lips into a faint smile. His stomach growled, anxiously waiting for Edward's mouth to share the prize. "So," he began, muffled slightly by the food. He swallowed to clear his mouth. "How long have you known Winry?"

"A while."

"How'd you meet her?" he prodded skeptically as he bit off another mouthful of meat. Surely Edward knew most of Winry's friends - particularly ones she knew long enough to readily defend from Edward's cold demand for privacy?

"I don't remember," Alphonse answered truthfully. He could not recall how he met Winry. Their parents were friends and neighbors; he knew her his entire life. "It was too long ago."

"Then how come I haven't met you?" Edward snorted after he roughly swallowed his food. "She's never even mentioned you before."

The question stabbed Alphonse like a butcher's knife and left him numb. His brother's lost memories of his revival were undeniable; Alphonse could not fool himself into believing the doctors were wrong. The pain of the loss felt more real with Edward's statement. Edward continued to eat while his brother stood in dumb shock. Alphonse desperately groped for words.

Finally, he muttered, "That's... classified information..."

Mouth stuffed with food, the amnesiac flared his nostrils and huffed in aggravation. He chewed more vigorously from rising frustration. Alphonse surmised his brother disapproved of the idea of sleeping in a room with a stranger nearby whose life was so confidential. Edward devoured his meal wordlessly, stealthily avoiding further conversation.

The silence unnerved Alphonse, so he waited for his brother to finish eating and calm before venturing more conversation. "Winry left a temp leg for you to use, but the metal will have to be transmuted first."

"Warped that bad, huh?" he mumbled, more to himself than to the informant. Edward tugged the collar of his shirt aside to peek at his metal shoulder port. He smirked. "Winry's going to beat the crap out of me once she gets over the shock."

Alphonse felt a light breeze of relief from knowing the sedatives did not _completely_ blind Edward to the girl's worry.

The smirk vanished. He examined the metal with the eyes of a scientist. Pursing his lips analytically, he noted aloud, "There should be more damage than this..."

"A lot of the energy was diverted," Alphonse explained timidly, fearing Edward's anger should he realize the tall armored suit initially attracted the lightning.

Edward glanced up at the speaker and returned his gaze to his shoulder port. "I'm just surprised you aren't in a bed, too, with your armor looking like _that_ after the jolt." He lifted his head to raise a suspicious brow at Alphonse. "Hell, you should've been roasted like a turkey in that thing!"

Alphonse expected his brother's suspicion and curiosity as an alchemist. However, he suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and hide when he felt a different emotion hiding in Edward's expression: anger. Alphonse thought he saw envy lurking in the amnesiac's eyes, as well, but he turned away his gaze. The Edward he knew would _never_ react as he did now to another's fortunate state - unless the individual was a homunculus.

"Um... uh... That-that's classifi-" Alphonse stammered under the subtle, suffocating glare.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Edward snorted. "It's _classified_," he drawled mockingly. He glowered indignantly at Alphonse, daring him to respond. His eyes darted quickly over the metal suit, internally warring with the prospect of continuing his verbal tirade.

Alphonse heard his brother's respiration turn erratic as his supressed anger grew. He feared for Edward's heart, undoubtedly straining under the present circumstances, and pleaded, "Calm down, Ed. Just breathe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he snapped venomously. "_You're_ the one here under orders to protect _me_."

Forcing aside the pang of hurt the words inflicted, Alphonse sumoned up his courage for the sake of his brother's health. "I don't care! Your heart is still recovering; now calm down or I'll tell the nurse to sedate you again."

Although Edward scowled spitefully at the metal figure, he attempted to obey. The less stress his heart endured, the faster he healed. The quicker he healed, the sooner the hospital allowed him to leave. Edward loathed hospitals - his only previous experiences with such facilities lead him to associate the services with death, shots, and the excruciatingly-painful automail surgeries - and sought to leave as soon as possible.

With a sharp exhale, Edward tore his attention from Alphonse. "I'm going to sleep," he grumbled as he jerked the string which operated the light above his head. When the light died, Edward twisted his head to his right to stare out the window and away from his unwanted guest. He watched the clouds float across the moonless sky and slowly allowed his anger to dissolve. for nearly an hour, he stared at the clouds silently before his eyelids drifted closed.

To pass the time in the solitary darkness, Alphonse calculated complicated alchemy equations and arrays in his mind.


	5. Chapter 5: Bound

_**[Author's Note] **Sorry it's been taking so long to write this! I've been pretty busy lately and frequently lacking motivation to write. I can't say I'm very happy with reactions I've been receiving about Edward's attitude, either. It seems few/none of my readers have enough sense to look at the other side of the fence. Either that, or you are just soulless individuals with no compassion. Take your pick. Yes, he's being a jerk. But on here as well as dA, some people have been saying some pretty awful things about him. If the comments get much worse, I may stop posting the story. Your loss, not mine. Anyway, enjoy chapter five!** [/AN]**_

**Chapter 5: Bound**

Alphonse watched the authoritative military officer enter the room unannounced and halt inside the door to survey the interior. Edward slumbered peacefully, still turned toward the south-facing window. the man's entry did not disturb his rest. Roy momentarily disapproved of the teen's lack of awareness as a fellow State Alchemist, but the feeling subsided when he reminded himself of Edward's young age and present physical status.

He paused when he noticed Alphonse. "Hey, kid, how is he?"

"Better," Alphonse replied softly to not wake his brother. "He's been pretty tired, though. He barely moved all night."

Roy nodded. "The drugs would do that. It's good he's sleeping them off. He should have a bit more energy today, but he'll probably still be a little tired because of his heart. Knowing Ed, he'll want to be released before he's fully recovered." He did not speak directly to Alphonse; his eyes wandered over the sleeping patient thoughtfully while he spoke.

"Probably."

"So a bodyguard is definitely a good idea," he muttered under his breath. Roy asked, "What's your name?"

Irrational hurt scrambled Alphonse's thoughts, momentarily believing the colonel forgot his identity like Edward. Once he realized the man asked him for his alias rather than his birth name, Alphonse replied, "Alex. 'Al' for short."

"Last name?"

"Classified."

He replied with a curt nod. "Got it." Roy mentally configured a course of action before he announced, "Best be on with it, then." He approached the bed and stopped at the foot. "Rise and shine, FullMetal!"

Edward stirred in the bed and elicited a soft, groggy moan in response.

"Time to get up, princess," Roy prodded.

Upon recognizing the voice, Edward growled. He refused to mask his morning irritability for the officer's sake. "What do you want?" Dragging his hand to his eyes to rub the dried muck blurring his vision, he grumbled, "What time is it, anyway?"

"Five forty-five," Roy answered curtly.

Edward froze in place for countless beats while his exhausted mind deciphered the news like Roy's words were from an unfamiliar language. His head turned to the window to register the sun's position in the sky - barely over the horizon, according to the south-facing window - and paused to absorb the information. He suddenly whipped his attention back to the colonel. "What the _fuck_?" he shrieked.

Alphonse forced himself not to chide his brother for his harsh language.

"What the hell are you waking me up this early for? Bastard!" Edward ranted.

"Quiet down, Ed, you're in a hospital," the man replied calmly. "I need to speak with you before I go to the office."

Edward formed noises of protest in his throat, but he did not speak. His arm flopped on the bed as an indication he felt the urge to fold his arms, but he realized as soon as he began to move that the lack of an arm complicated the task. Therefore he settled his arm across his abdomen. "So what is it, then?" he huffed.

"How are you feeling today?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"You'll be expected to write a report about this once you get to it. The sooner, the better."

"I know."

Roy nodded in the direction of the temp leg Winry left for Edward to use. "You should probably use that around the hospital, so you won't lose muscle mass in your legs."

"I have to fix my port, first," he retorted condescendingly.

The colonel fished in the front shirt pocket of his uniform and held up a piece of chalk. "Would something like _this_ be useful?" He smirked knowingly.

When the young prodigy possessed both hands, he could transmute without a circle. The ability to create quality transmutations without drawing a circle - accompanied by his intelligence, of course - earned FullMetal's State Alchemist certification. Without an arm, Edward faced no choice except to manually draw a transmutation circle like alchemists who did not violate a taboo in alchemy and see the being Edward referred to as Truth. Therefore Edward required a tool to draw with.

The amnesiac scowled, because he knew the favor could not lack consequence. "What do you want, Mustang?"

Roy shifted to one side to indicate to Alphonse behind him. "You have to fix his armor."

"Why do _I_ have to do it? Ask a blacksmith, not me!"

"A blacksmith can't help him," he replied flatly. "It needs an alchemist's touch."

"Why can't someone else do it?" he demanded stubbornly.

Since Edward could not remember that only possessed enough knowledge and skill to safely tamper with Alphonse's armor-bound soul, Roy chose the simple explanation, "It's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Reaching a state of suspicion, Edward eyed his bodyguard and commanding officer. "What's the catch?"

Roy detoured to the door, glanced around the hall, and closed the door before he approached Alphonse. "Other than Miss Rockbell, you will not breathe a _word_ about this to _anyone_ not under my command. By that, I mean: Hughes, Armstrong, Hawkeye, Breda, Havoc, Falman, Cain, and myself. Is that clear, FullMetal?"

"What is it?" he pressed after a brief conceding nod.

"Alex, if I may?" Roy inquired, gaze fixed on Edward to monitor his reaction.

"Uh-" Alphonse began to object, but he remembered the early hour and the amount of noise his movements caused. "... Sure," he acquiesced.

Vision fixed on Edward, Roy carefully executed his task. He placed his palms on either side of Alphonse's helmet, assuring a firm grip on the cool steel before he jiggled the object gently. Once properly loosened for removal, Roy lifted the helmet from the armor and tucked the detached metal snugly under his arm.

Edward's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in shock and awe. "What the-?" he gaped. His eyebrows furrowed as he recovered from the surprise, and he grit his teeth. "What the _hell_ is this?" he snarled.

"His soul is bound-" Roy began.

"I know what it is!" Edward barked. The anger boiled his blood and hastened his breath. He huffed and puffed to catch his breath and slow his heart, and he glowered furiously. "Is this some sort of fucking _joke_?" he demanded.

"No," Roy replied flatly.

"How _dare_ you expect me to fix something like _that_!" Edward hissed, tossing a venomous glare at the armor.

Alphonse could not ignore the use of the word "some_thing_" rather than "some_one_." He wished to melt into the floor, evaporate into the air; he did not want to be in the room to feel his brother's fury.

By contrast, Roy remained outwardly calm and collected despite the shock of his subordinate's behavior. "It's an area of alchemy you know very well, and I can trust you not to disclose the nature of his condition."

Edward's glare cast daggers at the colonel. "Of all the-"

Lifting the chalk into view as a reminder, Roy interrupted, "Will you accept my offer, FullMetal?"

"No," the blond spat.

Momentarily immobilized by surprise, Roy forced his expression to remain neutral. "Have it your way, then," he replied as he returned the head of Alphonse's armor to the suit.

Alphonse watched Edward - Roy preparing to leave in the edge of his vision - begin to reconsider his decision. The lack of limbs left Edward defenseless, and Alphonse knew his brother detested the feeling of vulnerability. He watched fear subtly wash over Edward's features as he realized the consequences of his choice.

When Roy's hand touched the door handle, Edward squawked, "Wait-!"

Edward sat up straighter in attempt to salvage the remnants of his dignity after the pathetic sound left his lips.

Roy turned to him, eyebrow raised inquiringly. "Yes?"

Shoulders slumping in defeat, Edward surrendered, "Fine. I'll do it."

With a satisfied smirk, Roy smugly strode toward Edward to set the chalk on his bedside table. "Now, don't transmute anything until the doctor sees you." Roy directed his attention to Alphonse. "Al, don't let him transmute anything until the doctors give him a 'go.'" He lifted a suspecting brow at the amnesiac. "Use force, if necessary."

"Understood, sir," Alphonse replied uniformly.

Roy slid his hands into his pockets and glided out the room, and he softly closed the door behind him without further comment.

Silence filled the room, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Alphonse waited wordlessly for his brother to speak, disturbed by Edward's obvious disquiet. Edward clutched the blanket beneath his fingers and bowed his head, so his bangs cast a shadowy veil over his eyes. Every gesture, each passing second, and any inhale hinting to an attempt at speech cried with betrayed animosity. The painful scene tortured Alphonse.

"Do you want me to get you some breakfast?" Alphonse ventured quietly to break the unbearable silence.

Edward's hand, holding the blanket tightly in his grasp, clenched tighter and began to quake.

"How about the nurse, so maybe you can transmute-?"

"Juss'go..." Edward mumbled.

Uncertain what the amnesiac said, Alphonse inquired, "Ed...?"

"GET OUT OF HERE!" he roared. "Just leave me alone!"

Alphonse stared at his brother, dumbstruck by the outburst. The sound of sprinting footsteps echoed in the corridor until an alarmed nurse skidded to a stop behind the door and entered unannounced. The young redhead surveyed the room quickly before she limited her attention to the two occupants, primarily the distressed patient.

"Is everything all right?" she gasped, winded from her urgency to check on the patient.

"Fine," Edward snorted. He turned his head away from the nurse to discourage further contact.

Shifting her attention to Alphonse, she lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yeah..." the armor answered lamely. Metal joints shrieking in protest, he climbed to his feet. "I'm going for a walk..." he sighed to no one in particular.

The nurse watched him leave, mouth agape dumbly. Once able to articulate coherently, she announced, "Well, since I'm here, anyway, how about I update your chart, hm?"

With the knowledge of Alphonse's departure in hand, Edward centered his head's position to resume staring at the blanket folds on his lap. He did not reply to the nurse's proposition; he focused on the sound of the armor's hollow footsteps fade to silence down the hall.

The nurse bustled around the room quietly to perform her duties. She wordlessly observed the patient from the corners of her vision. His body gradually lost the angry rigidity harbored when she first entered. She approached his bedside to check his blood pressure, but she balked when she noticed his shaking frame.

"Mr. Elric, are you all right?" she whispered gently. When he did not respond, she tilted her head to her left to peer at his hidden face. As soon as his clenched teeth slid into view, Edward's hand shot up to desperately cover the upper half of his face.

He inhaled sharply and rasped, "I'm fine." Edward pursed his lips to force silence and calm upon himself.

Glistening tears of deep sadness beneath his fingers dampened his cheeks. The nurse straightened her posture and nibbled on her lower lip thoughtfully. His chart expressed strict orders to sedate him if he grew upset, because his heart could not handle unnecessary stress. On the other hand, the staff member who last administered such medication confided in her the fear and discomfort Edward displayed toward the consequence of handicapping his senses. She saw the desperation to control his emotions, and despite the risk of losing her job, she decided against administering the medication.

"I'll come back later," she murmured.

The nurse departed without another word, and she proceeded to the nurses' station to resume her responsibilities. On her journey down the corridor, she spotted the tall suit of armor who formerly occupied the amnesiac's room. He leaned against the wall at the approximate midpoint between the recovery room and the nurses' station. He did not address her as she neared him, and she did not slow as she passed.

As she walked by, she thought she heard the muffled sobbing of a child from within the armor. The size of the armor reminded her of the impossibility of an occupant as young as the voice, so she ignored the sound and continued onward.


	6. Chapter 6: Abandoned Teddy Bear

**[AN]**HOLY CHEESEPUFFS, CHAPTER SIX?

I want to apologize to everyone for how long chapter six has taken me... Not only have I been busy, but I have also been in a lot of pain due to my new job at a grocery store, which is rather taxing on my back (muscle spasms and frequent spinal subluxations) and plantar fasciitis (having to do with my feet). Even now, it's almost 11:00pm (I closed the store tonight)... I finished typing this before I went to work, but I didn't have time to post it. I wanted to make sure it was up before I went to bed tonight, so I could (hopefully) see some shiny reviews by the time I log back in tomorrow morning/night - depending how early I wake up before work tomorrow.

Thank you all for your patience, and I hope this chapter was worth the wait!

ALSO! There are two LOVELY fanarts from chapter five for all of you!

http: / / bradtheboy . deviantart . com /art/The-Day-He-learned-to-cry-202189855

http: / / fyre-dragon . deviantart . com /art/FMA-Solace-207142849

Now. Commence worshipping and fangirling/fanboying like I did when I saw them. Go on! **[/AN]**

**Chapter 6: Abandoned Teddy Bear**

Alphonse waited in the corridor until 7:30 to regain his composure and for his brother to calm. He journeyed through the monotonous maze of white hallways to retrieve breakfast from the cafeteria, and he tiptoed cautiously into Edward's room upon return. The blonde nurse Janice started her shift during his absence, and she assumed the responsibility to update Edward's chart. She stood by his bed, monitoring his blood pressure, when Alphonse wordlessly left his brother's breakfast on the bedside table. Edward ignored the gesture, but the nurse graced him with a gentle smile.

"How nice," she cooed. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to come back in, especially after the ruckus I hear you two caused this morning!"

"It's no big deal -" Alphonse attempted to defend his routine act as his brother's occasional-caretaker.

"Nonsense!" she chirped. When she noticed Edward's snarky silence, she added matter-of-factly, "After all, _real_ men don't hold a grudge."

Janice felt a twinge of satisfaction when she saw Edward's gaze flicker in the metal suit's direction. "Since I don't have to fetch your breakfast now, I can go let the doctor know that you're ready to see him when he is," she announced with a skip toward the exit. "He should be in by the time you're done eating."

Alphonse retreated to his designated corner of the room while his brother grudgingly reached for his food. He drew the table across his bed to ease his access, and he plucked the lid off the tray of food. Scrambled eggs, jellied toast, hash browns, and three strips of bacon decorated his plate; and a small bowl of steamed carrots sat nearby. To the left of the plate, a tall glass of water awaited him, and to the right of the plate, a lone carton of milk stalked the meal like a vaudeville villain. Edward lifted an eyebrow distastefully at the carton before he returned his attention to the food and began to eat.

Edward ate quickly, because he refused to allow unfinished food to provide a reason for the doctor to postpone his examination upon arrival. He unceremoniously wolfed down the food, and he barely paused to breathe in between bites. Once every morsel of food evacuated the plate into his stomach, Edward's attention refocused on the carton of milk. He stared at the container, a glint of defiance twinkling in his eyes. Memories of Edward's ongoing war against the beverage echoed through Alphonse's mind while he awaited the latest outrageous outburst. Although he fully expected the patient to declare battle against the lifelong foe, Edward remained silent. Alphonse watched his brother intently, uncertain what force could postpone the one-sided battle of will.

Finally, after a sharp snort of reluctance, Edward reached for the carton and forced the container open. When the stench wafted into his nostrils, he frowned with dread. His chest expanded and froze, signifying his held breath as he steeled himself. In a flash, he brought the drink to his lips and tipped his head back. His eyes screwed shut, and goosebumps spread over his skin in revulsion like attempting to escape the horrid substance. Once finished, Edward slammed the emptied carton down on the table. The plates clattered in surprise, and the table shuddered under the force of impact.

Eyes unopened, Edward breathed stiffly through his nose. He pursed his lips as his skin paled. Bracing against the desire to vomit, he reached for the glass of water, accepted a mouthful to rinse the taste from his mouth, swallowed and repeated the process. His goosebumps slowly smoothed over his skin, and his nausea grew less obvious as his taste buds forgave him. Once he reached the last of his water supply, he resigned to stare out the window to wait for the doctor.

He tapped his index finger unconsciously, a slow and monotonous action Alphonse never witnessed his brother execute. The soft thud of impact almost counted the seconds, measuring the time as he anxiously awaited the doctor's verdict. He longed for his mobility, however handicapped, because mobility meant self-defense and, eventually, independence. Once independent, he could leave the hospital. Edward detested hospitals and doctors; he never received favorable news. Winry's parents, as doctors, died during the Ishbalan Massacre while attempting to heal the wounded. Doctors informed him of his mother's impending death. Edward spent months in the Risembool hospital after he committed alchemy's greatest taboo - not once, but _twice_: the loss of his leg during the failed resurrection of their mother and the trade of his arm for his brother's soul - to recover from the consequences. Each trip to the hospital reminded him of each horrible encounter with the medical field, and he wanted to leave.

Ages seemed to pass before the doctor arrived to evaluate him. The Elric brothers followed the doctor's each movement and every expression, searching for a sign of his final verdict. The elderly man read Edward's medical chart carefully, and he did not rush his examinations of the patient's neurological reflexes. His practiced calm, despite the thick tension within the room, convinced Edward of the man's veteran status in the medical field, perhaps the most experienced doctor in the institute. The doctor's disheveled appearance carried the presumption that the man decreasingly cared about the opinions of his patients and co-workers as his years increased. His disposition, however, demanded respect for his unmatched wisdom.

As the doctor flashed a light into his patient's eyes to test the pupils' abilities to dilate, Edward prodded, "Doctor Preus?"

He hiked his peppered-gray brows skeptically and exhaled through his veiny, red nose. "Well..." He tapped Edward's chin to indicate to him to open his mouth. As Preus glanced over the cavern with his little light, he sighed, "Everything _seems_ to check out all right, _but_..." He lowered the light and adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully, and Edward closed his mouth to listen intently. "I'm a little worried about your heart, yet. Although I doubt that the transmutation, itself, would bother it, I don't want you to get ahead of yourself and go nuts before you're healed."

"I'm a fast healer; I'll be fine," Edward assured.

Preus smirked knowingly. "And attitudes like _that_ are notorious around here!"

"You can ask my mechanic," Edward suggested callously. "She and her grandma fixed me up when I lost my limbs; they'll tell you the same."

"Limbs aren't the same as the heart," the doctor replied.

"I'll be good," Edward promised a playful whine. "I swear!" When the doctor lacked any signs of persuasion, Edward continued, "Come on, it's not like I'm going to have to do anything _too_ strenuous. My babysitter, there, will take care of that stuff." He gestured in Alphonse's direction.

Preus lifted a skeptical brow at the suit of armor, feigning previous ignorance of Alphonse's presence. "That so?"

Alphonse straightened attentively. "Uh- Yes, sir!"

Jerking a thumb in his patient's direction, Preus asked, "You'll make sure he doesn't push himself?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

The doctor turned to Edward, and he eyed him pensively. After several moments, he sighed in defeat. "All right, then. Go ahead and use alchemy." He wagged a cautionary finger at Alphonse. "It's your job to make sure he doesn't overdo it."

Alphonse nodded jerkily.

The fragile old man exhaled through his nose sharply. "Mind your burns, as well. It will do you no good to bother 'em much." He turned and hobbled with a sage-like dignity out of the room without further comment.

The moment the doctor left his sight, Edward threw off his blankets for access to his leg's automail port. He stretched for the chalk his commander left on the bedside table, and he sketched a transmutation circle on the metal. He touched the circle with the pad of his ring finger, igniting a series of electrical, blue sparks of tiny lightning bolts.

As the energy crackled and shifted the steel invention, Alphonse noticed a change in his brother. Although he did not react outwardly to the transmutation, a haunted terror flickered in Edward's eyes. He stared at the flowing energy like a childhood bite victim faced with the decision whether or not to flee from a barking dog in his path.

In his mind's eyes, Edward saw a thick bolt of lightning bare down on his metal bodyguard, amazingly detailed in a state of slow motion. The metal quickly lit up from the intense heat and began to warp. In the same instant, the intense energy leaped across the space between the metal man and Edward. The blinding light propelled the two apart, and Edward felt an inexplicable fear and worry for an unknown presence, a presence other than himself, begin to well up inside him. Who was he worried for? Why?

As the crackled died away upon completion of the transmutation, Edward's mysterious flashback faded but he continued to stare at the metal beneath his fingers, his mouth rigidly agape.

"B- Ed, are you all right?" Alphonse asked, worried for his brother's deeply disturbed expression.

Edward's eyelids fluttered momentarily as he gathered his senses. He glanced around the room, uncertain whether or not he was spoken to, searching for an indication of expectancy to respond. Whether he discovered the source of the question and chose not to respond or he surrendered his search, Edward decided to proceed with his task in silence. He hauled himself forward and stretched for his temporary prosthetic. Although he nearly tumbled from the bed in his pursuit, he refused to ask for assistance. He dragged the device to the bed, and he maneuvered the coordinating metal into place at his leg port. The sturdy plastic cupped around and gently rested against approximately an inch of his freshly-burned skin. Since the limb could not move as fluidly as automail, the device rose higher on the stump to assure stability. He flipped two switches on the prosthetic to lock the limb in place with a crisp _click_. Unlike automail, he felt no pain when he attached the leg; the temporary solution for his lack of mobility did not require the connection of his nerves.

A victorious smirk tugged on the corners of Edward's lips. Eager to leave the bed, he hustled to the edge of the mattress.

Alphonse shifted closer to his brother. "Do you need a hand?"

"No," he snapped instantaneously. His foot and prosthetic lowered to the floor with a subtle signs of discomfort etched into the patient's features. He released a controlled breath through his nose and rose from the bed.

Before Edward completed his first step, Alphonse noticed the sudden pain tormenting his brother. Although his facial expression did not change, one glance spoke volumes to the younger Elric. All trace of color drained from Edward's face before blood raced to return to his head, and his reddened face alarmed Alphonse.

Stubbornly refusing to ask for assistance, Edward stealthily gripped and leaned on his I.V. stand for support. The stiff, artificial limb hindered his movements, and Alphonse expected his brother to limp. He failed to consider the unhealed burns near his stump, aggravated by the plastic replacement's rough, abrasive contact. Although he moved slowly to avoid accidental self-injury, Edward began to doubt his stability. As he stepped forward on the artificial limb, he carefully shifted his weight onto the burns and the I.V. stand in his grasp.

The searing pain nauseated the young patient, and he hastened his flesh foot forward to relieve the weight. Removal of the strain jostled the burns against the plastic further, and the lingering pain from the contact quickly grew worse than the initial pain, like the aftershock of an earthquake. Edward's heart raced as his breath fled from the tortured body, despite his lungs' desperate attempts to shakily reclaim the beloved oxygen. The pain radiated through his body from the tip of his nose, to his fingertips, and to the sole of his foot. He suddenly felt his body quake from the overwhelming sensation, and his muscles rubberized against his will.

Edward watched helplessly as the floor rushed to greet him, and he heard a loud screech of metal. Images of his younger brother as his body disintegrated in the ominous light of The Gate, arm outstretched for help, flashed before his eyes. The screeching metal mixed and faded with screams; Alphonse's young, shrill voice echoed - surprisingly close - in his ears, "Brother!"

"Al!" Edward cried frantically.

As suddenly as the images appeared, they vanished. Increased oxygen intake returned Edward's awareness of his surroundings, and his senses informed him of the inexplicably-familiar arm cradling him around his abdomen. His burns throbbed vengefully in the back of his mind; the lack of oxygen to his brain inflicted an identical sensation to his skull, leaving him breathless and dizzy. He soon discovered his left hand clung desperately to his bodyguard's right wrist; the metal hand at gentle rest on Edward's lower ribs to hold him upright. He did not loosen his grip. He, instead, stared at the metal beneath his fingers like a freshly-uncovered ancient tomb. Edward utilized his dazed state to catch his breath and momentarily study his bodyguard's armor. The metal contained a mystical familiarity, like a long-forgotten, abandoned teddy bear he found while cleaning a closet.

He rarely allowed close contact with other people, because his position as a State Alchemist taught him to never lower his guard. If he unknowingly allowed an enemy such close proximity, Edward faced a disadvantaged in an attack. Of the number of people he permitted past his defenses, even fewer managed to dispel his instinctive unease. Although he jealously distrusted the stranger supporting his body, he felt entirely calm. He sensed no reason to feel uncomfortable in the arms of his bodyguard. A knowledge of patience, compassion, and security washed over and relaxed him.

A nurse neither recognized sprinted into the room, alarmed by the commotion, and gasped, "What happened? Is everything all right?"

Alphonse did not reply, too preoccupied with his brother to respond accordingly. He did not yet know if his brother was well or if help was necessary. His grip on his brother did not falter, and he listened for signs of further distress.

Still panting, Edward forcibly slowed his respiration and gathered his wits. He used the armor arm as leverage to attempt to regain his footing.

Noticing Edward's restored awareness, Alphonse asked softly, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Edward replied to the armor and the nurse. He grimaced when he heard how hoarse and pathetic his voice sounded. He glimpsed a device presently necessary for his mobility near the exit of his room, and he sighed in defeat. In an effort to strengthen his voice, he inhaled deeply and ordered, "Get me that wheelchair over there."

With a glance to the wheelchair, Alphonse nodded obediently. After he gently returned his brother to the bed, he retrieved the loathed chair in silence and politely signaled a dismissal to the nurse.

_**[IMPORTANT AN]:**_  
- "Preus" is pronounced "proyce." Like, you know, a rolls royce? It's the name of the library at the college I go to, and I was in class when I was writing that part. The professor teaching the class happened to be a descendent of the man the library was named after, so he had the last name. :XD:  
- The reason Ed drank the milk (if you haven't gathered this already) lies, basically, in the logic of children. Anyone who has been around children knows that they are less likely to throw a fit if no one is around to witness it. Without his brother, Winry, Pinako, etc. to complain to about milk, he has no reason to. Plus, he knows he'll get healthier faster and can leave the hospital! **[/AN]**


	7. Chapter 7: Safe Again

**[AN]** I hope it was worth the wait. Thank you all for being so patient. Enjoy chapter seven! **[/AN]**

**Chapter 7: Safe Again**

Edward trained his eyes on the length of the corridor, periodically shifting his gaze to the opposing ends. He demanded privacy for the duration of the phone call, refusing to tolerate eavesdroppers. He kept his gaze on the distant nurses' station while the dispatcher connected the call. The familiar ringing echoed through his distracted thoughts until he heard the ever-professional salutation.

"This is First-Lieutenant Hawkeye," the voice announced.

"Hey," Edward greeted as he watched a recovering patient hobble out of his room, presumably venturing to the cafeteria. "It's me."

"FullMetal?" she confirmed in a suppressed gasp. A pause drifted through the receiver before she continued in relief, "It's good to hear from you."

"Yeah, thanks," he dismissed. "Is Mustang around?"

"I'm afraid not," she did not pause for his disapproving snort, "He was needed at a press conference."

"What he _needs_ is to tell these _goons_ to let me out of here!" he snapped. "There's no reason for me to stay in this dump."

"None, whatsoever?" she skepticized rhetorically.

"None!" he sniffed stubbornly.

"Listen, Edward," Hawkeye began with an exasperated tone. "I know you're eager to get out of there, and it'll happen soon enough. You have to, at least, give your mechanic a little time to get you mobile again. For right now, that hospital is the safest place for you to be."

His eyes flickered in their ongoing search for eavesdroppers and he lowered his voice. "What do you mean, 'safest?'"

The length of her pause momentarily lead Edward to wonder if the connection dropped until she answered, "Some State Alchemists have been disappearing. High-profile ones, too."

"Is it Scar?"

"Not likely. We have reason to believe that these alchemists are being sold on the black market, but we don't know why."

"So that's why you've given me a tin babysitter?" grumbled the amnesiac.

"Correct," she answered with a tone of finality. "So, for now, just lie low and focus on recovering." While he ground his teeth and muttered obscenities under his breath, she finished soft and motherly, "Okay, Ed?"

"Fine, whatever," he huffed. "Just make sure Mustang gets my message."

Edward turned his head to search the length of the halls on either side of his phone booth, no one to be found. "Hey, ya oversized trashcan, get out here!" he called into the depths.

He watched his bodyguard flit out of room 421 and down the hall, the disfigured joints groaning eagerly as he reached for the wheelchair. Just as his fingertips began to wrap around the handle, he jumped as he heard, "Where have you been?"

Confused, Alphonse replied, "I've been in the room. You said you didn't want anybody to bother you…"

"Some bodyguard you are," Edward continued. "Leaving your charge alone and defenseless like that. Sheesh!"

The armor started to shift uncomfortably, but he stilled himself when his joints screeched in protest. He stood in silence for a moment before he asked, "Would you like to go back to the room?"

"Might as well," he sniffed, reclining to rest in the seat.

Alphonse rolled the chair down the hall without a word. A wounded pang in his chest left him numb. His brother's snarky comments were not unexpected, considering his attitude toward other military dogs. True to form, the opposition would be considered wrong, regardless how they handled the situation. Edward just wanted to express his displeasure. Alphonse struggled to remind himself that he was not the blond alchemist's brother; he should not take the insults personally. "Ya'know…" he ventured carefully. "If you feel up to it, you might want to try to fix up your shoulder port, too. Winry said she would be by soon with your arm."

A subtle tensing of his shoulders indicated the capture of his attention. However, he refused to show how pleasing he found the news. "And the leg?" he inquired, failing to mask the hopefulness for mobility.

"She didn't say," he replied. When Alphonse saw his brother's figure sag back into the chair, he added cheerfully, "But you know Winry: if she isn't finished yet, she'll be done in no time!"

Edward did not respond, too busy brooding to hear the reassuring sentiment. When he felt the wheelchair slow to a stop, he simply stated, "I need the chalk."

Without skipping a beat, Alphonse passed the small white stick to the patient. "Right here."

Edward etched a small transmutation circle into the warped metal. For a moment, he just stared at the drawing in thought, remembering his last transmutation. However, once he felt eyes upon him, he swallowed his apprehension and closed his eyes. He touched a finger to the circle to ignite the majestic blue sparks. Once the soft crackles died away and the transmutation completed, he reopened his eyes to admire his work.

"Good as new," a voice chirped from the entryway.

Both boys turned to find Winry leaning on the doorframe. She carried her large, automail-hauling briefcase over her shoulder, causing Edward's eyes to light up. "That was sure fast," Edward grinned happily.

She wrinkled her nose. "The leg isn't done just yet. Mr. Hughes has been making me take breaks to eat with his family, so I'm not working as quickly as I could if I were in Risembool." To answer his disappointed scowl, she continued, "But I figured you'd, at least, want the arm, for now."

His expression did not change. "Why couldn't you have done my leg first, so I could get out of here?" he grumbled under his breath.

Her face reddened as she clenched her fists. "Stupid! Just be glad that I'm doing it at all!"

For the first time since her arrival, Edward looked at her face. Her skin had grown pale, except for the bruise-like bags beneath her puffy, red eyes. Combined with her anger and exhaustion, he suddenly feared for her consciousness. "What's the matter with you?" he asked bluntly, without a trace of the frustration he held seconds before.

"Nothing," she snapped, averting her gaze. Winry shifted the heavy burden on her shoulder uncomfortably. "Do you want the arm or not?"

"Uh… yeah," Edward mumbled, withdrawing.

She straightened from her resting place at the wall with a sigh, "… Idiot." Glancing at the bed, she turned to the armor towering beside her, "He should be on the bed for this."

"Right," Alphonse nodded obediently. He wheeled the patient to the bedside, then his arms hovered uncertainly. "Do you want any help?"

The amnesiac glowered at his legs stubbornly. "… Fine," he admitted. Edward lifted his left arm, grabbing the line of his I.V. bag to ensure the needle remained undisturbed in the back of his hand, and allow his bodyguard access. The armored hands slipped around the small frame and effortlessly lifted him to the inclined bed. Despite the unforgiving solidity of the gnarled metal, Alphonse's grasp remained gentle and his movements smooth. Once his charge settled comfortably, the bodyguard proceeded to reattach the I.V. hanging from the wheelchair's attached stand to the similar device positioned beside the bed.

Wasting no time, Winry set down her briefcase and began unpacking the new limb. She used the portable dinner table as her personal work tray, lying an array of tools across the surface. The new arm positioned within his shoulder port, she worked expertly to make the necessary adjustments to the complicated machinery. Edward loved to watch the intensity of her concentration glimmer in her eyes, occasionally shielded by her fallen blonde locks. He observed silently, fascinated by her speed and accuracy, and listened intently as she mumbled through her mental checklist of on-site adjustments and administration procedures. Mesmerized by how her lips barely moved, but with a frequency that almost appeared a persistent quivering, he jolted when she announced, "That's everything. Are you ready for this, Ed?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered.

Winry nodded and stationed herself at her pre-positioned wrench, poised to attach his nerves to the device.

"Five."

She looked up at her childhood friend, noticing the anxious glimmer of sweat collecting at his hairline. As much as she loved automail, she pitied her customers during the excruciating attachment process. She could not fathom the immense pain they endured, especially those in need of frequent replacements – namely, Edward.

"Four."

She furrowed her eyebrows at the thought. Automail did not break easily, especially not the models prepared for him. Although he rarely shared his adventures, she knew the pair faced possibly-lethal encounters far too regularly. Her imagination created nauseating scenarios that replayed through her mind constantly.

"Three."

Who would have dreamed the brothers might fall into their current situation? Her gaze flickered in Alphonse's direction before she refocused on her customer. Her heart ached enough for both of her surrogate brothers that she had not slept since the accident, and she could barely concentrate on the task of building the automail between intermittent tearful breakdowns.

"Two." She spotted his flesh hand clench around a tuft of blankets resting beneath him as he drew a deep, shaky breath.

Nonetheless, she refused to allow her grandmother to fashion the limbs for him. She promised to take care of the boys and help them as much as the brothers allowed. She could fix Edward on her own. She would support Alphonse. She wanted everyone's energy focused on helping the boys, rather than soothing her rattled state. She resolved to be productive with her concern, rather than immobilized.

She released the breath she was unaware of holding, "One."

Edward slowly deflated his lungs and closed his eyes, steeling himself against the incoming pain. Once his breath completed, Winry jerked her wrench to connect the nerves in his shoulder. His body went rigid, and he gasped for air through gritted teeth. The sharp pain continued to radiate through his collarbone and neck, down the length of his arm to his metal fingertips. He attempted to breathe through his nose, but the slightest movement of his chest exacerbated the daggers piercing his shoulder. His heart painfully thumped in his chest from the strain, and he heard the blood rage through his eardrums like a flooded river. Head pounding, he ventured a shallow breath that sent an awful stab through his heart. He released a strangled sob, digging his nails into the soft bed for stability as the room swam around him. He barely heard the commotion of nurses racing into the room, bustling to slow his straining heart.

"Sedate him," one nurse called. "Quickly!"

Alarmed at the idea of needles, Edward's eyes flew open to search the room. Through the chaos, he saw a nurse passionately scolding Winry for her thoughtless fumble. Her panicked, pale face stared blankly at the stranger, her mouth gaping like a beached fish. His mouth opened to assure the staff that sedation would prove unnecessary. As he inhaled to speak, the painful jostling of his chest evoked a mangled cry. The noise increased the vigor of his attendants and distracted the angry nurse from his mechanic.

Soon, he found Winry's warm palm placed softly over his clammy fist. "I'm sorry, Ed," she croaked. "I wasn't thinking about your heart. Th-The nerves in your chest and… My God, I'm so sorry…"

The drugs administered, Edward felt the tension in his chest relieving and the drowsiness beginning to shroud his senses. He inhaled shakily and loosened his fist with a small sigh. The effort required to turn over his hand caused a haunting tremor as he loosely curled his cold fingers around hers.

"Thanks, Winry," he breathed.

Her hand wrapped around his more snugly, rubbing her thumb over his skin soothingly. Despite the remaining ache in his torso, his tight expression melted into a faint smile. He had two arms, meaning he could transmute without drawing a circle. She returned his defense to him. He could feel safe again, even without his leg.

His surroundings slowed, distorting space and sound. Eyes lolling about the room, he spotted the fuzzy tower of armor near the foot of his bed. Neither spoke, but the waves of horrified concern emanating from the empty metal left him uncomfortable. He tried to relocate his friend's face, but the room shifted with the tiniest rotation of his eyes. The sound of his own breath echoed in his ears while he fell into blackness until, finally, his body landed in a cloud of peaceful numbness.


	8. Chapter 8: Some Goddamn Sense

**[AN]** Surprise! I didn't realize I had written this much already. As you know I like to keep chapters shorter than most, so it's easier to read. If you're like me, I don't like to be interrupted in the middle of a chapter, if possible. Anyway: go ahead and start reading! **[/AN]**

**Chapter 8: Some Goddamn Sense**

Waking up from the sedative felt like trudging through a foot of mud. Edward blinked at the ceiling for a moment, as his memories trickled back to him. He tilted his head and slowly lifted his automail arm, just enough to bring the device into view, to confirm his recollections. When he lowered his hand in relief, the metal clanked softly to rest.

"How are you feeling?" a familiar voice inquired gently.

Edward's gaze drifted around the room in search of the voice, absently skimming over the unfamiliar metal suit several times before the figure registered in his mind. He chose to ignore the question, drew a breath, and rasped, "Where's Winry?"

"She went back to Mr. Hughes' place to finish your leg," he answered.

"I see," the blond muttered, slightly cringing at the sound of his own voice. "How long have I been out?"

"Just a few hours. They didn't want to give you too much, in case you weren't able to handle it..." Alphonse trailed off.

Edward hauled himself into a sitting position. "Gimme the chair."

"Where are we going?"

"Yes, FullMetal, where are we going?"

Both boys faced the door to see Roy Mustang with his arm outstretched, supporting himself against the doorframe. He lifted a smug brow at his subordinate. "The nurse filled me in on your little adventure. I have to say, I was touched; you missed me that much?"

Edward glared back at his commanding officer. "When are they planning on letting me outta this stinkhole?"

"If you hadn't pulled your little stunt this afternoon, I might have been able to talk them into releasing you tonight," Roy announced, leaving the doorway to approach the bed. "But, now, I have no idea."

"If I wasn't stuck in here, that 'little stunt' wouldn't have happened," the patient countered. "Everyone is concerned for my safety, right? Now I can transmute, and I have the tin man to handle the rest. There's no reason they can't let me out."

"I'd say knowingly causing a jolt to the nerves near your heart, which could have easily killed you, might make some doctors think twice about letting you out from their supervision. What do you think, Ed? That sound close, maybe?" the man snapped. Before the subject of his frustration could retort, he continued, "Grow up, kid! You boast about being a so-called 'adult' and not needing a 'babysitter,' but you don't know the first thing about what it means. So far, you haven't shown any evidence of being capable of taking care of yourself. Show some goddamn sense, for once!"

If Alphonse had a jaw, he would be gaping at his brother's uncharacteristic reaction. He felt certain that the anomaly had not escaped the colonel's notice, either. Rather than burst into a rabid argument, Edward kept his expression neutral, his anger betrayed by the red tint in his skin and the slight furrow of his forehead. After a few moments of tension, he responded curtly, "Are you done?"

Roy's silence encouraged the blond to proceed. "I admit that I didn't think about how my heart would handle attaching my arm. If the doctor said something against it, I was too drugged to remember." Edward eyed his superior a few moments, waiting for a possible response, before he nodded toward Alphonse. "With my arm back, I can fix the armor, but I can't here at the hospital. I need some materials. Then he'll be good to go, and I can take all the time I need to recover and get my leg. So, as far as that's concerned, I need to leave the hospital in order to be safe. Until then, you just have two half-functioning dogs collecting dust."

Silence filled the room while Roy absorbed the uncharacteristically-sensible response. Edward held his gaze while drifting backward to carefully lie against the inclined bed. Alphonse felt the tension in the room, reversed from the scene he had grown accustomed during such encounters. Contrary to the norm, Roy watched his opponent with stubbornly slit eyes while the blond responded with a challenging raise of his brow. As the tension crept toward a peak, Roy shrugged, "It's up to your doctor."

The man swiveled in place and strode out the door wordlessly, and the room remained silent in his absence. Edward closed his eyes in satisfaction, feeling his senses dragged down by the remnants of the sedative. He felt himself drifting away when he heard a pair of feet shuffle into the room. He cracked an eye open to find Doctor Preus approaching the bed, the colonel waiting near the doorway with folded arms.

"Old man," the patient addressed in surprise. "I figured you'd be gone for the night."

"Just wrapping up my rounds," he grunted. "I hear you jumped the gun on us, with that arm of yours."

"How much did it set me back?" Edward asked bluntly.

"That's what we're about to find out."

The doctor untangled his stethoscope from around his neck, placed the rubber knobs in his ears, slipped his hand under his patient's shirt, and pressed the icy receiver to the back of Edward's ribs. His hand migrated pensively around the torso, up and down and around to the front. When he replaced the device around his neck, the doctor proceeded to shine a light in the amnesiac's eyes, taking his time with the task. Finally, he picked up the patient chart to skim over the numbers.

"Interesting," he mumbled. Louder, he clarified, "Your numbers are looking decent. Not good, but decent considering what you've put your system through."

"What does that mean?" Alphonse piped.

"That means," he declared. "That you lucked out, son. I think those sedatives saved your skin."

"And my leg?" Edward asked hopefully.

"What about it?"

"My mechanic will be finished with it soon. Should attaching it cause any problems?"

The man eyed him sagely with a release of air through his hairy nostrils. "I don't imagine it'll give you as much trouble as the arm," he conceded. "But I don't think it'd be a good idea. The body's fight-or-flight pain response will set off your heart."

Edward scrambled for a solution as he watched Doctor Preus begin to turn away. "What if I took something first? Before it's attached?"

The man paused, inclined his head thoughtfully toward the inquirer and answered more to himself than his patient, "I suppose. A muscle relaxant of some sort might do the job, as long as it's taken effect beforehand."

The amnesiac stared at the doctor with pleading expectancy. When he realized the doctor had nothing to add, Edward ventured, "Then, can I be released tomorrow?"

"Oh, just as well," he sighed, heartily patting Roy's shoulder on his way out. "Might as well get him out of here, before he does something else that gives me more paperwork, eh?" As the colonel smirked knowingly, the man added with a chuckle, "Good luck with that one."

Edward's face lit up with relief, ignoring the commentary. "Thanks, old man!"

Doctor Preus dismissed the gratitude with a wave of his hand as he disappeared into the corridor.

Roy remained for a moment, allowing the events of the doctor's visit occupy the silence. "I expect that report upon your return to duty, FullMetal."

Despite his groggy instability, Edward subtly positioned his fists on either side to keep him propped upright. He knew an expression of thanks was in order. However, his words failed him. He stared at the colonel, fighting the urge to shift under the man's scrutiny. Before he could muster an appropriate response, Roy softened, "Good night, Ed."

He waited until the heavy sound of Roy's boots faded down the corridor until Edward allowed himself to relax into the bed. His lips tiredly creased into a smile, in spite of himself. He closed his eyes as if he was absorbing the warmth of an invisible sun after an extensive imprisonment, relishing in the realization of freedom. Soon, Alphonse noticed the slowing of his brother's breath, indicating a drug-induced, numb slumber.

Edward did not stir when a nurse entered to change his burn bandages. "Has he been out for long?"

"In and out," Alphonse replied. "But I think he's out for the night."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a glance at his brother. "If he was going to wake up, he would've woken up when he heard someone come in."

Janice huffed, "Do you think you could help me sit him up?"

He hesitated a moment before he began to move, cringing at the sound of the shrieking metal as he crossed the room. Alphonse waited for the nurse to express her opinion toward the crude noise, but she kept any related to herself. Once certain the alchemist did not wake during the ruckus, he strategically reached a hand beneath Edward's clothes to shield his tender skin from the cold metal. Alphonse's free hand gently pressed into the center of his brother's chest to maintain an upright position. Edward's head lolled forward, and his jaw hung slightly ajar.

The nurse worked efficiently on her patient, beginning her work on his right shoulder immediately. Although Alphonse saw his brother sleep on a nightly basis, the deep slumber sent a prickling sense of disquiet through his phantom spine. He chose, instead, to silently watch the nurse execute her task. Alphonse and his brother experienced countless injuries over the years, whether from Edward's position as an alchemist of the State or as a result of sparring matches between the two. Dependent on the severity of Edward's injuries, Alphonse served as nursemaid to ease his brother's recovery. However, he could not recall an instance in which either brother sustained a burn injury. He wanted to feel prepared to take over Edward's care upon discharge from the hospital, even though this unfamiliar Edward would likely refuse his assistance.

As he waited for Janice to proceed to his brother's thigh, Alphonse noticed the groggy tension flexing Edward's fists and the indistinguishable mumbles rumbling in his chest.

The nurse commented cheerily, "Good dreams, I hope."

"Yeah," he replied, dismissing her optimism powerlessly. Alphonse kept his gaze on her work, choosing not to point out the familiar shimmer on the amnesiac's eyelashes.


	9. Chapter 9: Toxic Silence

**Chapter 9: Toxic Silence**

The wheelchair teetered back and forth, on the two large wheels, as Edward pretended to listen to the nurse's directions and warnings. Alphonse listened carefully to her instructions while watching the patient rotate the reclined chair playfully. The level of cheerfulness the amnesiac exhibited unnerved Alphonse. Edward appeared too happy. He showed no signs of the horrific nightmare that Alphonse glimpsed barely hours ago, causing his brother to squirm and call out in his restless slumber. He assumed the behavior was a mask intended to mislead. He recalled that, when Edward awoke, he seemed to have placed an emotional mental block that left him cold and numb. He only spoke to request a bath, visibly uncomfortable in the remnants of the nightmare-induced sweating frenzy. He did not become conversational until he dressed, and the nurses commenced the process of discharging the patient.

The nurse stared in expectant silence, lifting an agitated brow as she tapped her fingernails against her clipboard.

He closed his eyes and shrugged, "Yeah, sure. Take the antibiotics, drink plenty of water, let the junk take effect before attaching the automail, and know the possible side effects. Just give it all to the garbage can, so I can get out of here." He tipped the chair forward, touching the two smaller wheels to the ground. Without waiting for a response, he began rolling himself down the corridor.

She flustered and opened her mouth to protest disposing of the items.

"He means give them to me," Alphonse muttered, as he reached for the medication. He readily signed the release forms on her clipboard, accepting responsibility for Edward's care.

She snorted disapprovingly and turned away to resume her duties, grumbling to herself, "Some 'Hero of the People.' Jerk!"

Alphonse followed his brother down the hallway, the only sounds exchanged between the two emanated from the damaged armor and the occasional squeak of the wheelchair. He expected Edward to make a detour to the telephones, to demand a status report on his automail leg from Winry. His sudden halt took Alphonse by surprise.

"Hey, call me a taxi, wouldja? I want to go home."

He balked. "Home?"

"Yeah, my apartment," Edward expanded, eyeing his bodyguard critically.

"Oh," Alphonse muttered. "Right." Neither brother had called a place "home" since they burned down the family house in Risembool years ago. The word almost sounded foreign, coming from the alchemist. Nonetheless, he dumbly approached one of the hospital's payphones and asked the dispatcher to connect him to a taxi service. When he finally turned around, he assumed he would find the wheelchair carelessly teetering on the two hind wheels once again. However, he was surprised to find Edward resting his chin on his automail fist, deep in thought. Choosing not to disturb his reverie, Alphonse silently gripped the chair's handles and headed toward the exit.

"Don't touch me!" Edward barked.

Like an electric current assaulted his hands, Alphonse instantly released the chair. "Uh-," he stammered. He scrambled for words to soothe the toxic silence. "The taxi will be here in a few minutes."

The patient silently rolled himself toward the exit, unconcerned whether or not his tall metal shadow followed. Once he finally reached the large doors, he halted and coiled his arms into his lap to wait. As Alphonse shifted his feet uncomfortably in the thickening quiet, hoping the boys' transportation would arrive soon, a fuzzy memory echoed across his mind. A man with an indistinguishable face bellowed, "What gives you the right to touch my chair?"

He recalled seeing a pint-sized Winry behind the wheelchair of an unidentifiable man who lost both legs in the Ishbalan War. She appeared confused and hurt by the man's venomous glare. The girl squeaked, "I… Granny said she needed to see you, so I thought…"

"Listen, kid-" he snapped.

"Lighten up, old man," Edward defended furiously from his side. "She just wanted to help!"

The man proceeded, undaunted, with only an intensified glare shot in the boys' direction. "Without my legs, this chair is all I've got. These wheels are my legs, as much a part of my body as an arm. What the Hell gives you little brats the right to touch my body without my permission? Absolutely nothing!"

As the man grumbled about the children's lack of respect, the trio deflated into hushed glances until Winry summoned the courage to ask for permission to assist the man to her grandmother's workspace.

Alphonse's memories immediately transitioned into a montage of pictures of the occasions his brother required a wheelchair. He never remembered an instance in which Edward reacted in a similar manner. At the same time, he realized he was the only person ever permitted to provide such assistance. In fact, he could not recall any occasions when others were trusted with the responsibility, including Winry or Pinako. Every image he saw featured himself pushing his brother's chair or Edward propelling himself, unassisted.

"Ya comin' or not?" Edward grunted.

Yanked from his thoughts, Alphonse found his brother already settled in the front seat of a taxi, the impatient driver tapping on the steering wheel. After hastily returning the wheelchair to the hospital lobby, Alphonse stuffed himself into the backseat of the car. He forced himself to remain silent while Edward directed the cabby through the city, to the rows of military housing units. Upon arrival, he eased out of the car while Edward paid the fare. For a moment, he wondered why his brother remained in the vehicle.

"How are you planning to get in the building?" Alphonse pondered softly, calculating the distance from the car to the third-story apartment.

His features twisted into a thoughtful grimace, Edward answered slowly, "… Hadn't thought that far…"

"Well, ya gotta do something. I gotta get going," the cabby snorted.

"Keep your pants on," Edward dismissed. "I'm going!"

The alchemist opened the door and touched his foot to the ground, bracing against the car to stand. Alphonse instinctively offered his hand for assistance, which Edward blatantly ignored. He shuffled to the side, to close the door of the taxi. He pat the hood of the vehicle, signaling dismissal to the driver. The man pulled away from the curb, leaving Edward balancing steadily on his right leg. He held his head high, chest puffed proudly, eyeing the building before him like a general to his worthy adversary. Ages seemed to pass before Edward finally drew a deep breath through flared nostrils, muttering, "Here we go."

He awkwardly sunk to the ground and, with as much dignity as he could muster, began to crawl toward the building.

Alphonse felt relieved for the inability to openly gape at his brother. He expected Edward to ask for assistance, once the stranger disappeared. Even if he felt ashamed, Edward never failed to ask his younger brother for help in such dilemmas. As he watched the alchemist awkwardly inch along the sidewalk, he waited for signs that Edward would transmute transportation. However, as Alphonse studied his brother's face, he felt a sickness reverberate through the hollow armor. Glimpses of Edward's horrified stares and rigid shoulders, initiated by the post-lightning transmutations, passed through his mind.

Was the FullMetal Alchemist afraid to use alchemy?

Keeping one eye on his struggling brother, Alphonse crossed the lawn to an aging tree. With a swift twist of his wrist, he broke a low-hanging branch and began etch a transmutation circle in the dirt. He gently positioned the wood over the heart of the diagram and pressed his palms to the ground, igniting a storm of blue sparks. After the crackles quieted, Alphonse lifted his product and returned to the sidewalk.

He stepped into his brother's path and knelt. "Here," Alphonse offered. "Use this."

Edward halted, reluctant to raise his head while he fought his breath and recovering heart. When he finally looked up, Alphonse saw a thin veil of sweat on his ashen face. The blond glared at the cane, warring with his desire for independence against his fatigue. He turned his face back to the pavement, while his chest heaved for air.

"Please," Alphonse prodded gently, fearing for his brother's heart. "Don't make me take you back to the hospital."

Suddenly, his respiration quieted, but he did not move from his position. Edward tilted his head, briefly eyeing the cane once more, before he reached for the handle. He hauled himself upright, pausing a moment to stabilize before continuing toward the building. His pace remained slow, head held high, refusing to reveal his fatigue to the bodyguard.

Alphonse followed close behind his brother, watching for the slightest sign the alchemist may swoon from exertion. With each step, he felt both relief for the success but also increased fear for the rest of the quest. The stretch to the building never felt longer or more treacherous. Centuries passed before the two could finally enter the complex and proceed to the base of the staircase. He studied the alchemist's face, reading the familiar, calculating expression. With every conclusion he reached, Edward's features pushed farther together into a crinkled mess of disapproval.

Steeling himself, Alphonse ventured, "I think it might be best, if I carry you up the stairs."

"Fine," Edward grunted. His face began to relax, in spite of himself. The prodigy's pride remained untouched, with the offer.

He paused a moment to weigh the possible ways to hold Edward. Without the automail leg, coupled with the recovering flesh, Alphonse's options remained limited. Typically, the caretaker would opt for piggy-back, but he worried the position could aggravate the healing injuries. Since he received no sensation in his metal extremities, Alphonse would be unable to feel his limbs rubbing the sensitive burns. His gaze drifted about, as he thought, and lingered on the high ceiling. After weighing his options, he reached a decision.

"All right, here we go," Alphonse announced. In one swift motion, he wrapped his hands around Edward's middle and relocated his charge to sit on his left bicep.

"Holy crap!" Edward yelped in alarm. His automail hand gripped the collar of the armor for stability while his flesh hand continued to hold the cane. Alphonse kept his hand tilted to carefully hold his brother's shoulder, keeping him in place. "Would it kill you to warn somebody?"

"Sorry," he replied reflexively. "Hold on."

Alphonse slowly trekked up the staircase. Despite the ungodly noises emanating from his damaged joints, the movements maintained a smooth, gentle rhythm. Once he reached the top of the stairs, he proceeded down the hallway to the apartment without hesitation. Upon the door, he knelt before softly setting his brother on the floor, waiting until Edward's stance appeared steady before releasing him. He quickly revealed the apartment key, before Edward could begin fishing in his pockets, and unlocked the door.

Edward paused, the door handle partially turned in his grasp. He threw an analytical glance toward the bodyguard as he drew a slow breath.

"What do you say we fix that armor of yours? I'm getting really sick of all the noise that damn thing makes."

"Uh… okay," Alphonse stammered.

"It'd probably be best if this was done in the kitchen," he muttered, perhaps more to himself than his subject. Edward proceeded into the apartment and began his preparations for the transmutation. He worked quickly to sketch the appropriate array on the hard kitchen floor, although Alphonse could see the struggle to maneuver around the surface on the lone knee. When Edward finished, he silently signaled for the armor to move into position.

Edward stared at the array as he steeled himself against the alchemic reaction. He forced his breath to slow, focusing on the task at hand through closed eyes. He continued to inhale through his nose and exhale from his mouth until his hands and thoughts steadied. Finally, he shuffled forward to place his hands at the edges of the array, igniting the transmutation.

In a flash, Edward found himself staring out the window of a familiar train. Brief glimpses of the scenery and his bodyguard barraged his vision faster than he could absorb. He began to feel a sense of motion sickness threaten to expunge his stomach's contents. He heard not only his own voice, but also the muffled voice of someone he could not recognize.

"I just can't stop thinking about... what I would've done…"

"You would've been fine… Moved forward… You're strong…"

Then the images faded as quickly as they appeared. He waited until the crackles died away to open his eyes. Edward reached for the cane to rise, and he barely noticed the bodyguard's quiet assistance.

"I need some water," he gasped, retreating for the living room couch.

"Got it," Alphonse instantly replied. He kept an eye on the departing figure as he retrieved the water, not truly focusing on his task until Edward left his direct sight. He worried the excitement of the transmutation dangerously strained his brother's heart, and he rushed to finish his mission. By the time he entered the living room, he found Edward sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. As his urgency evaporated, Alphonse set the glass of water on the end table and left the room in pursuit of a blanket.


End file.
